day 97

where do these letters go?
no stamps. no addresses. just,

Dear...


Yours,
Friend.

We live with, by, the dots. The silence between an action and a reaction.
Who do I send these letters to?
Does it matter?
What do I write? Words of encouragement or words of malice?
Or words to remind people that we're alive or words to remind how we could once write?
How are you? Where are you?
To write to pretend you'll be still alive when the letters reach the addressee? Will they reach?
No one has the right to receive these letters.
No one should be reading words that belong only to the moment of the writing.
Once received, the words become the readers. Gently or violently.

Have you received my letters?

Hope, is the vain tyranny to oneself, if hope, be not attached to the gift of death.