Dear Amy,
Silence is what I have been feeling lately. Everything I have wanted to say to you. I can’t feel anymore what it was I felt at the start. When I look at you the burst of light is a dim, useless nothing. But I have found my light. In Chicago. It’s not someone, but something. It calls to me every night. Our seven years of marriage have been great but the end is eminent. I may come back to you if my light fades or if you call to me in the dark night as the white dove. You must not try to find me. All I will say is it is a swank little Burlesque club. They want me for a manager. My blood thickened at the thought. The blood lust was enough. It summons me. Yet I do not feel anymore. LaChapelle is my calling. Je t’aime. But lust is my new passion.
Xoxo
Jean Michael.
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