Letter in a bottle
Hello my friend,
I have been thinking of you. The idea that you might exist moves me. This morning I realised the possibility you embody. I thought of how it can be that you are actualised somewhere in this world. It inspired me to contact you.
We are strangers right now, my friend. I do not know your name, have never heard your voice, and cannot recognise your face. The waves that delivered you this bottle are not under my control. You could be close or somewhere far away in space and time. Though we are not complete strangers. I actually know you well. I have already felt your presence in the wind. Even though I live in the mountains, I still fathom the sea. It will always be with me as openness everlasting. I continue to envisage myself cutting through the line of the horizon. To go to the further places where people who are not like me experience the world as I do.
There is an unmistakable trace to who you are, my friend. It does not elude me. I write this letter in an effort to approach you, to tell you that you are not alone. I do it out of curiosity. I am keen on proving that you exist. I am bent on demonstrating that a certain potential is made manifest through you. I also write it out of interest specifically in you. I plan to know you better and am inexorable in my endeavours: to understand the world you represent beyond the aspects of personality and the interests we have in common.
If you have read this far, you necessarily are curious like me, my friend. You already know there is nothing more to this bottle than the present letter. I have no ordinary gifts for you. Though I am still offering something special, something I can least afford: my time. You understand that you have my undivided attention. You sense my vitality through these words. It is inexhaustible in its creativity. By reading this letter, you ultimately wish to make sense of the story and from there to understand a little bit more about its creator.
Words is the best we have, my friend. There is nothing more I can give you that will stay in your mind as a vivifying force. When you evoke the memory of what has transpired here, when you think of the author and of authorship, you shall muster the energy of the heavens and, with some sustained effort, direct it at will as I do.
Writing to you feels natural, my friend. I have no inhibitions. This letter communicates a facet of my authentic self even if it remains generic. We both know, deep in our hearts, that we only ever appreciate the words we say to each other in earnest; words that are spoken without regret and with no shame. The rest we forget, even if we feel strongly about them in the moment. But the honest word stays with us.
These words are a token of my benevolence towards you, my friend. I know you will treat them kindly. They will make you contemplate what has been and shall become. You will wonder what made me do this. Though you already know the answer: you did. I am writing this letter because I have dreamt of the place you occupy in the space we coexist. In dreamscapes I have found what the forms of life in my midst have been hinting at.
Who are you really, my friend? What is it that made you read this far? You will consider as much the same way I shall. And there you will discover that at some level we are one.
Take care,
A feral soul