I’ve been writing a lot of letters lately, but not to the people I oughta be writing letters to, not at all of them anyway.
The small drawings overlaying two of these pages were done by my daughter, whose biggest barrier to art is the thought that things ought to look a certain way without seeing that the way the bird looks up is pure and brilliant.
I haven’t finished most of the letters I have written, or one in particular, a significantly long letter, that is a mix of emails unsent and words penned on paper that is soft and taupe, curved at the corners. The paper was on clearance at the copy shop, where I went to make flyers on a Sunday afternoon.
So, I guess I’ll just put these here, so that there is evidence that they were written. They…
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