Rebecca, hello out there.
Rebecca, I miss you.
Rebecca, Rebecca, Rebecca.
Rebecca, I found these two photos today while on a wild cupboard cull and promptly taped them together and scanned the shit out of them as fast as I could. I also found a lost roll (sans digital files) of photos of you and Grant in Kawaii Crepe and one GREAT shot (split between two frames) of you and your man leaning against those classic grey-blue slats of Papa Georges. I miss you two.
Now there is a great chain of Grant and Rab moments frozen in time taped to the wall above our work table in the sewing room. Wish you could see it, you would laugh aloud. Damn, what I would give to hear that laugh ring out in my long home. Dinner is on, vinyl is about to be selected: Townes Van Zandt in honor of you and Grant and Sir Iaan.
Missing you like only a French woman on a motorbike can miss a heavy-earringed woman dancing in alone in a Factory.
Ex oh, ex oh,