i used to write.

July 29, 2008

Dearest Dan,

Many days have passed since we last spoke. I beg your pardon, for mail delivery on the e-pony express is none too reliable. But I push on. Almost a year has passed now since I made the decision to hop the wagon and make the pilgrimage to this distant land.

Here is what I can tell you of this place. The cacti here are purple and salute the stars, night by night. The stars crash into the sea and the stingless jellyfish fly, by and by, transparent hot air balloons in flight. Teams of fishermen cast nets made of guitar strings for the nocturnal silverfish who come to dance and play for the lilypads. All the honeybees here are historians – they can tell you legends like you’ve never heard before. The ink pens are heavy, but the clouds are light, and smallest grapes always taste best. The air smells like bonfires and soap and navy blue. Lily of the Valley line every path and we live every day paying homage to 7 words of a fortune cookie fortune.

I do hope this letter finds you well.

And knowing that I think of you often.

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