Last year, I attempted to write in the same spot (Cedar Park in West Philly) at the same time (sunrise) every day. I went out with my typewriter and typed a full page before driving to work. It was called Private Drafts.
There is a very specific dance I think most of us miss out on. That is the art of delayed gratification–or, in this specific case, letter writing and snail mail.
Yesterday, a wonderful present arrived for me. I wasn’t expecting it, and that certainly added to the initial gasp-love-beauty-dizzy-shock sensation. It’s a sensation I usually associate with making intense eye-contact with a brave, vivid personality. In the haze of it all, my mind struggled to catch up and rearrange the circumstances.
An epiphany: I had received my letter from Remi.