Writing letters is its own magic, and I've written some in the past, back when that was a thing, and yes, that's how they were. All that want and need when there's no way to access the other person. Amazing still. Terrific find. Great story. Makes me want to write new ones, even though the person who makes me feel all those things is literally sitting three feet from me and I have but to reach out my hand.
Rather than being offended, I am gasping for air. I've only read (and enjoyed) The Last Leaf and Gift of the Magi, so the question in my mind is how such a subtle and gentle writer be so passionate? Indeed, his stories slice right through the ribcage into the heart.
It’s hard to convey to someone younger who never knew what that kind of separation was like. Mine were weeks and months long with phone calls either too expensive or just too painful. We were shaped by our separations.
I need to smoke a cigarette after that--and I don't even smoke.
I always feel a little sad when private letters like these are exposed to voyeuristic eyes. Feels like such a violation.
Damn. That was exquisite.
Writing letters is its own magic, and I've written some in the past, back when that was a thing, and yes, that's how they were. All that want and need when there's no way to access the other person. Amazing still. Terrific find. Great story. Makes me want to write new ones, even though the person who makes me feel all those things is literally sitting three feet from me and I have but to reach out my hand.
Rather than being offended, I am gasping for air. I've only read (and enjoyed) The Last Leaf and Gift of the Magi, so the question in my mind is how such a subtle and gentle writer be so passionate? Indeed, his stories slice right through the ribcage into the heart.
Crikey!
It’s hard to convey to someone younger who never knew what that kind of separation was like. Mine were weeks and months long with phone calls either too expensive or just too painful. We were shaped by our separations.