Letter from Kirsti

I used to think that I had never been in love, or even that I was incapable of falling in love. I asked my newfound lover how one could be sure if one was in love. (I believed him to be somewhat of an expert on the field) He could not give me the answer I wanted; he said it was all about feeling, and thinking and feeling for the other. Then I asked him if one could ever get so close to another person that one could feel where he or she itched when he or she itched. He did not believe so.


This morning my lover said that he wanted to drink tea more often. I had a cup of earl grey with my müsli; he had a glass of orange juice. Later I asked him why he wanted to drink tea more often. He replied that he had never said such a thing, but that some mornings he had tea, other mornings coffee and yet other mornings juice.

I guess maybe it is like this: I have left him, and I am alone, but still it feels like he is touching me, or a memory of him is touching me, like my body needs for the touch telling me that I need to be with him again. As I walk, the parts that were latest connected to his parts lean in the direction he would have been in. Like a man who has lost his arm and compensates by leaning in the direction of the lost limb. When we are apart, he is my lost limb. I guess that this could be the explanation I was searching for; this is how I could know.

*Kirsti Taylor Bye, photographer from Norway

(on a theme tea coffee and something else)

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