The letter predates the envelope so they were still corresponding and I hope, still in love and having marvelllus weekends together. The last pages of the letter are missing – the person who loved Alice so dearly remains a secret. This letter was rescued from a junk shop today. I’ll keep it safe. 17 endearments on two small pages are too priceless to throw away.
Like having a glimpse of another’s dream, entirely out of synch with your timeline, from a time when the worth, the price of life, love, and loss was much more personal and felt. Not voyeuristic, but more like inadvertently overheard something that you weren’t meant or allowed to, which makes it even more real. something to seed your own dream.
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The way “my darling” and “dearest” are just sprinkled throughout the text is so artless, and charming, and sweet.
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