Under the elixir of your advice and the influence of time I’ve grown both weaker and stronger. You were correct about objectivity and while sequestered I discovered our hearts are not tamper-proof. They are like the cheek that turns to present the other side after being struck, they become more red, more tender.
You’ve been a good friend and though I wanted to speak with you of my pain I was too deeply entrenched in its compound letters as many things were end -ing to have made any sense, even to me. For a brief while I became a stripper and the evidence disappeared. Walls, floors, closets, cabinets, drawers and even my clothes were ripped away, tossed, torn, scrubbed or cleaned. It was time well served but a new time of service has come.
My yearning for him has been the loneliness of a quarantined snowflake that spends its days pondering the sun and its nights dreaming of snow. Surely you wish to receive at least one letter where he isn’t mentioned but then again you probably understand that he must be included because he is written on my heart.
It shouldn’t be any surprise that by the time you read this letter I will have returned home to the states, to him, to the states of passion and joy. Unmasking my heart has left me inscribed with an interchangeable sweetness, a clairvoyant honey, a nymph-like desire and an innocent love. My journey has been influenced by five hundred million little bells and the knowledge that I can never return to sleep until his voice is the only thing ringing in my ear.
Your kindness leaves me forever in gratitude.