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“The Moon! Artemis! the great goddess of the splendid past of men!
Are you going to tell me she is a dead lump?”– D.H. Lawrence
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Photos by Alexander Gyre, taken 2008-2009
My Dearest Lotte,
I have few recollections of when I first heard musical artists; time, place, people etc. However there is one musical memory which, for some reason unknown to me, has always remained. And you dear Lotte triggered it powerfully yesterday.
In the autumn of 2006 on a rainy and cold day in Montreal (it amazes me to think of that day’s connection to us now), I had some free time and so, umbrella in hand and coffee in the other I walked down to the Indigo store on avenue McGill College to wander through the books. I can still smell the damp, cold city-scented air and see the wet flattened leaves on the sidewalk, feel the icy rain on the backs of my hands. Everything about that time vivid in memory.
While in the store music came over the store’s sound system which immediately made me need to find out who the artist was, as she had such a clean and beguiling voice. I even remember clearly the store worker, a shorter stocky fellow with close cut hair and Euro style rectangular glasses. He later showed me to the poetry section.
And when you posted a song by this artist (with a wonderful little play on my name no less!) it loosed all the sights, smells, feelings of that day and time in Montreal, the truly one time, one memory I have of the first time hearing a musical artist, Feist.
And now I see, that cold and rainy day in 2006 was meant to warm us now.
mmmm…Though you sit in another chair… Your selection my lovely Lotte! Let your hair hang all around me! Xander
Xander:
How surprised and delighted I was to have seen your photograph of this little gardenia still fresh amidst its shiny dark green leaves… and then so humbled to discover it just days later, having traveled hundreds of miles, still headily fragrant and white and pressed in a book for me!
And now I’ve come to know for certain that flowers speak to you, Dear One, in a way they do not speak to others; and so surely you knew that this one did not mind sacrificing itself to bridge the distance and let us share a little joy.
It has been such a short week full of infinite moments. Touch the flowers for me, wherever you are.
Most Lovely Lotte,
I have missed you deeply this evening as I wandered about amongst the people of this city.
So late now that I cannot properly craft a line.
With all Love for you,
Xander
My Cherished Lotte,
Woodsmoke scents the air on this evening, far north of where you will lay your soft perfumed hair upon your pillow.
Yet another full moon has come to light a lonely night I spend without you by my side. With continued hope and prayer we will soon meet and never suffer apart again.
Sleep well my Love.
Yours for eternity,
Xander Gyre
From a magical enchanting old book which my Dear Friend A gave to me on the day we first met I chose this passage as best expressing my longing for you tonight.
But see! The rising Moon of Heav’n
again —
Looks for us, Sweet-heart, through the
quivering Plane:
How oft hereafter rising will she look
Among those leaves — for one of us in vain!
— Omar Khayyam
lottenxander
Lotte and Gyre 