This was our last stop before your eight-year Manhattan residence came to an end. I told you right on the spot that the fact that our roaming ended up at the Bethesda Fountain was significant enough an omen. A bright one, a miraculous one, for you. Serendipity simply did not say it. When I was up there under the Fountain helping the twin brothers from the Bronx with their gig, I caught sight of you clapping and laughing like a baby. You looked beautiful.
From today on, my first association with Bethesda will no longer be Angels in America, but you, sitting on the steps watching me. There are so many and not nearly enough landscapes (and their moments of glory) on this island that I have discovered with you：Shakespeare, Joyce, Poe, Greenwich, East V, M Mile(84th^), Meng, Sym and ice-cream. They are going to come back to me once and again with your innocence and compassion, with your courage to defy exhaustion, anger and despair, your peace with and resolution against loneliness, your worldly wisdom and heavenly love.
......
I hate airports, perhaps JFK and SFO in particular. But it was one of the merriest departure; even tears were brief. You are embracing a new life. S and I enjoyed your hysterically childish waving. We enjoyed hysterically childishly waving back at you too. Only then did it hit me that you were not only saying goodbye to us but also waving goodbye to this unfathomable city of sin and dream.
Right now, you are probably over the sky of somewhere North America, fast asleep or fearlessly wide awake. Let us say no goodbyes. But I promise: I do miss you. Dearest P, wish you excellence and companionship.
Night and Love,
Y.R.
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