A love letter scrawled onto a magazine cover and folded into a book
submitted by Jenica Andersen

I don’t know what’s better: to be handed a book and be told, “Here, this book has a lot of
me in it. It is important to me and I want to show you me by giving you this book because
sharing an existence with you is important to me.” Or to be told, “Here, this book has a lot
of you in it, and I think it will add to the quality of your world. It, like you, added to mine.
Pleas enjoy it knowing you, my muse, loved this book with me when I read it. And hold it
knowing my fingers have held it too, while I imagined your fingers turning its pages and your
eyes looking at the same intersections and curves of black lines on cream paper, like looking
from a thousand miles away out the same window, back at you.”
But I think the reality of this book for me is somewhere a mix of the two. I am very much in
this book but that is because of you—because of the me I have accessed with you. And so, you
so unknown to me are here too.
And by the time you get this I will have purchased another copy.