I am still here, at times, and I still See you. But be warned, it was the dreamer who knew how to talk to you, and foremost: was able to understand. I am the failsafe mode - I am literal, the machine that only comprehends syntax input with very slight deviations. We are the same, and yet we are not. The vessel is sick, though only slightly (I choose to believe, though it's been a long time now), which further lowers my ability to comprehend -anything-.
But you are in my heart. I read your e-mail and did not know how to reply. Sometimes it's hard to remember words that are not of battle, of one kind or another. But all my - call it prayers - are with you, always, in good as in bad.
There are things I want to ask you, but I can't find the words. They sound something like:
Which is your cd? (and any other projects I can see)
Are you getting through everything okay?
Are you well?
Are you happy?