Erik, This is a journal entry from Krabi, a day that began unsettled and slowly changed into something softer. I had been hopping from hotel to hotel, taking care of my own friend who was sick, carrying bags, wiping floors, trying to find a room that did not smell like disinfectant. I was missing my people, missing the comfort of friends who were not vomiting, missing the feeling of being held in place instead of drifting from one temporary home to the next. Then I met a stranger named Ingvild. We were by the pool, her in the sun and me in the shade of an umbrella. Birds kept jumping onto the lounge chairs beside us, tilting their heads as if they were checking in, making the world feel a little less lonely. It was there with Ingvild that I felt steady for the first time all day. Ingvild carried a kind of calm with her, a warmth that made hanging out easy even though my mind had been chaos just minutes earlier. She mentioned you almost immediately, not out of habit but with that gentle confidence people have when their feelings are anchored. She said you were smart and kind, that you loved her well and that you were good at kissing. She seemed ot smile more when she told me about you. She told me she liked her work but wanted something that challenged her more, something she could grow into. There was no impatience in her voice, only the sense of someone ready for her next horizon. You were close, up on the top floor of the hotel to the lef tof us, sick with food poisoning, a couple doors from where I had been staying myself. She pointed up, and even from her gesture I could feel the strand of care stretching toward you. Her eyes reflected the sky, shifting in color, never choosing just one. She told me her mother gives the best hugs which was easy to believe. It explained her softness. I do not know you, Erik, and you will likely never read this, but meeting her changed the shape of my day. I began unsettled, tired, missing the feeling of being around people who were not curled around a toilet bowl. But sitting beside her, with birds hopping about, I felt something ease. Whoever you are, I hope you feel better soon. I wish good things for you and Ingvild and that your sickness lets up long enough that you can spend some time marveling at Ingvild. PS - If you get better soon, please bring her dancing! She looks like she'd be a goofy dancer, like a four year old who reminds other people that music is there to move us, to induce smiles, and give us an excuse to be near people we vibe with.