![\"hwtupevaxy3dxnectfd3g6t3kbs7xhvnaocnwcmonni3ag8u.jpeg.jpeg?w=1140&v=2\"](\"https:\/\/images.teemill.com\/hwtupevaxy3dxnectfd3g6t3kbs7xhvnaocnwcmonni3ag8u.jpeg.jpeg?w=1140&v=2\")
I try to make my phone calls<\/p><\/p>
I try to make my phone calls<\/p>
from the tops of little hills,<\/p>
as if standing there<\/p>
somehow buys me a kind of magic, <\/p>
like I\u2019ve paid a toll for convenience,<\/p>
and this is the change I get back.<\/p>
It\u2019s not just about being outside<\/p>
or away from the usual distractions.<\/p>
There\u2019s something about the climb,<\/p>
the shifting of the ground beneath my feet,<\/p>
that makes the distance between us<\/p>
feel less like an empty space<\/p>
and more like a stretch of fabric<\/p>
I can tug on, fold, bring closer\u2014<\/p>
like the air might carry your voice faster,<\/p>
or maybe it\u2019s just carrying my hope.<\/p>
Of course, it\u2019s probably nonsense,<\/p>
the kind of hopeful thinking<\/p>
we invent when we\u2019re missing someone badly enough.<\/p>
But maybe nonsense is exactly what we need.<\/p>
Maybe it\u2019s the only way<\/p>
to stitch ourselves back together<\/p>
when the world has pulled us apart.<\/p>
So I hold on to it,<\/p>
that small, foolish magic,<\/p>
because it means everything<\/p>
when I\u2019m walking up that hill,<\/p>
the phone still pressed to my ear,<\/p>
waiting for you to say something.<\/p>
![\"przkd04tfdxsk7jy71atde7atottueid73yogjaookgppwqa.jpeg.jpeg?w=1140&v=2\"](\"https:\/\/images.teemill.com\/przkd04tfdxsk7jy71atde7atottueid73yogjaookgppwqa.jpeg.jpeg?w=1140&v=2\")
Today\u2019s call takes place on a bench by the river,<\/p>
you know the type,<\/p>
the kind of place where someone\u2019s slapped HOTTIE<\/p>
across the wood in bright pink spray paint,<\/p>
like they\u2019re trying to claim it,<\/p>
mark it as theirs in some loud, desperate way.<\/p>
I\u2019m sitting there, hunched over,<\/p>
nostrils raw and dripping from a cold<\/p>
that just won\u2019t quit,<\/p>
trying hard to sound steady on the phone.<\/p>
But \u201chottie\u201d?<\/p>
It feels less like a compliment<\/p>
and more like a joke\u2014<\/p>
one of those little cruelties<\/p>
the world throws at you<\/p>
when you\u2019re already barely holding it together.<\/p>
I clutch my phone like it\u2019s a lifeline,<\/p>
listening for a voice to cut through the cold,<\/p>
while the bench beneath me, weathered and worn,<\/p>
reminds me that some things just stick,<\/p>
words, feelings.<\/p>
And maybe that\u2019s the truth right now:<\/p>
the river keeps flowing, indifferent,<\/p>
but here I am, caught between<\/p>
wanting to disappear<\/p>
and needing to be heard.<\/p>
![\"cyy8zarxjnpxeurp6lrhhqhmg7d2nqwhwzad6l05nxgo8dwx.jpeg.jpeg?w=1140&v=2\"](\"https:\/\/images.teemill.com\/cyy8zarxjnpxeurp6lrhhqhmg7d2nqwhwzad6l05nxgo8dwx.jpeg.jpeg?w=1140&v=2\")
Sorry I didn\u2019t call until now.<\/p>
I couldn\u2019t find a place to be myself.<\/p>","urlTitle":"communicating-naturally","url":"\/blog\/communicating-naturally\/","editListUrl":"\/my-blogs","editUrl":"\/my-blogs\/edit\/communicating-naturally\/","fullUrl":"https:\/\/lostcampitos.com\/blog\/communicating-naturally\/","featured":false,"published":true,"showOnSitemap":true,"hidden":false,"visibility":null,"createdAt":1709854706,"updatedAt":1762476018,"publishedAt":1762476017,"lastReadAt":null,"division":{"id":209850,"name":"Lost Campitos"},"tags":[{"id":2886,"code":"matteo","name":"Matteo","url":"\/blog\/tagged\/matteo\/"}],"metaImage":{"original":"https:\/\/images.podos.io\/mx5aoz3isy9pvtbjv1zmt9gtmu61imixbo7khrc6dzovtlv1.jpeg","thumbnail":"https:\/\/images.podos.io\/mx5aoz3isy9pvtbjv1zmt9gtmu61imixbo7khrc6dzovtlv1.jpeg.jpg?w=1140&h=855","banner":"https:\/\/images.podos.io\/mx5aoz3isy9pvtbjv1zmt9gtmu61imixbo7khrc6dzovtlv1.jpeg.jpg?w=1920&h=1440"},"metaTitle":"Communicating Naturally","metaDescription":"A reflective poem on distance, connection, and longing, exploring small rituals, hope, and the fragile magic that keeps us emotionally close.","keyPhraseCampaignId":null,"series":[],"similarReads":[{"id":24851,"title":"Love","url":"\/blog\/love\/","urlTitle":"love","division":209850,"description":"Artist Matteo Delred and writer Rebecca Mar\u00eda reflect on love. Exploring different types of love, as defined by the Ancient Greeks.","published":true,"metaImage":{"thumbnail":"https:\/\/images.podos.io\/umrjnxs7qyv4mmajjpiopam85mxhwjzxx4c4dkt4pztfvz5q.jpeg.jpg?w=1140&h=855","banner":"https:\/\/images.podos.io\/umrjnxs7qyv4mmajjpiopam85mxhwjzxx4c4dkt4pztfvz5q.jpeg.jpg?w=1920&h=1440"},"hidden":0},{"id":24941,"title":"Catching On the Fly","url":"\/blog\/catching-on-the-fly\/","urlTitle":"catching-on-the-fly","division":209850,"description":"Writer, Rebecca W Morris, and Photographer, Matteo Delred, capture thoughts and images at the train stops from Jerez de la Frontera to Cadiz on the Cercanias trainline. For each stop, one piece of writing is written and one photo is chosen. Seeing the same things they\u2019d seen so many times, but with new eyes.","published":true,"metaImage":{"thumbnail":"https:\/\/images.podos.io\/hxf4vqbdejmlykd3ffgu1m8pfwvwi6xgvo0kqtnu50cygkce.jpeg.jpg?w=1140&h=855","banner":"https:\/\/images.podos.io\/hxf4vqbdejmlykd3ffgu1m8pfwvwi6xgvo0kqtnu50cygkce.jpeg.jpg?w=1920&h=1440"},"hidden":0},{"id":25084,"title":"Listening To the Birdsong From My Caged Window","url":"\/blog\/listening-to-the-birdsong-from-my-caged-window\/","urlTitle":"listening-to-the-birdsong-from-my-caged-window","division":209850,"description":"Matteo Delred and Rebecca W Morris capture the urban melancholy of being separated from the natural world through poetry and photography.","published":true,"metaImage":{"thumbnail":"https:\/\/images.podos.io\/7txvyg55ntk060bcks3mlugsnxi48onvirhfqfsftpnzp0ov.jpeg.jpg?w=1140&h=855","banner":"https:\/\/images.podos.io\/7txvyg55ntk060bcks3mlugsnxi48onvirhfqfsftpnzp0ov.jpeg.jpg?w=1920&h=1440"},"hidden":0}],"labels":[]}