“Dear Joe,

It had not rained for the entire time I have been in India and then this morning, I was awakened by a thrumming—I couldn’t tell what it was, the sound was so unfamiliar: rain. The air has been so heavy today, the clouds hanging over the ocean, bearing down. I used to write you haiku on postcards, but being here makes me feel more expansive. Even my hair is growing longer here, and I feel taller everywhere I go. Everything is long—the days, the heat, my limbs. Come find this new version of me.