Displacement, part 4

Dear Renata,

It’s only been a month since I last saw you in Brno, and fact is I miss you terribly. I know how you told me you would be in this part of the world next month, but it’s far too coincidental that your time here in this country would have the right dates, the same duration, but exactly a month after my trip. I’d laugh again if it wasn’t entirely some cosmic joke.

I thought about what you told me on that last night under low-lights and empty bottles of wine between us. Not only did you tell me you were quitting your current job and moving onto teaching colleges elsewhere on the continent, but you were gently poking me about what it was really that excited me, and for whom I would really carry out my particular slice of enthusiasm. I guess you’ve always known it’s come down to making a difficult choice.

Do take care of yourself, and I hope you have a good time in Sydney & Melbourne. Don’t let Matěj push you around too much!

Miluji tě,
Joel.

— 2009 June 29

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The fizz goes pop

Dear Lane,

Lately, I feel something at the edge of my consciousness. That edge somehow feels brighter, stronger, sharper somehow. Sometimes, I want to give into that edge, that this struggle for everyday penitence doesn’t somehow seem worth time or effort, that I want it all to stop as soon as possible.

Selfish in for a penny of thought, and selfish out for a pound of flesh.

Sometimes I feel so lost, that I feel that one day I may not be so lucky to find my way back home.

The new dawn brings a new day, and I find some internal source of strength. Get up, get out, and go see what there is to the rest of the day.

Yours,
Alfred.

— 27 December 2013.

Displacement, part 3

Dear Sarah,

The reunion has just been completed, and I’m on my way back to Halifax, as I’m writing this note.

As I expected, I don’t think they were entirely happy about my choice in things, and what I’ve decided to do with the way I lead my life. The one thing I will remember most and carry with me from here on out is the looks of boredom and disdain on their faces as I was regaling them with stories of travels abroad, the stories heard, and the possible paths lying clearly before me, all of them revealed without the benefit of science or progress.

Ultimately, it seems to me that to tuck away the things unseen there is a better hiding place away from the ones who have always told us there would be danger around every corner or near every event. It seems to me as well that perhaps I just don’t care any longer about the things I’m doing or about this life I lead, that there might be something else more important to accomplish, to communicate, and to preserve.

Sis, I think it’s high time I got myself back to the people and things that matter most to me. The waters are deep and are about to change.

Until I write again,
Larry.

— 2009 June 20