Dear Vodka drinker,
It's spring and it smells like tulips, you know how much I hate tulips. I can still remember your smile and your kiss, but I seem to have forgotten all our arguments. It's moments like these when I'm sorry time never drips backwards.
I believe I never got the chance to thank you for the mid XXth century legacy you've left me with. I wonder if you still read this and if you still keep me alive somewhere, somehow...
I'm also curious if springs are always gonna remind me of you (of us).
forever not yours,