Letter never sent

Letter never sent

Where are you now?

Last I heard it was Guatemala. You must still be helping out the poor and the ill.

You used to help me too, you know. You brought me joy, just with your presence.

I think one day--when you are tired of being famous, and I'm tired of being old--you'll come by my neck of the woods by accident, and we'll go out again for breakfast, like we did. And I'll be happy to see you, and sad at the same time, because you have to leave again, and go off to where it is you're going. And it will return, that feeling of disbelief--that I was ever in the same room with you. I will remember how that disbelief never did change; how thankful I was to wipe away my own sorry problems for the split seconds we ate together there on Princess Street.

I hope you never figure out how magical you are—self-awareness never did a thing for anybody. You with your big teeth and boundlessness and your hairy blonde warmth, you make us laugh; at the same time you make us fall for you.

I wish you the best in your extraordinary life. And you better not a) deny that you deserve these words or b) let them go to your head.

(written on the back of a paper napkin, in the restroom of Bar Alfieri on Via Pantaneto, in Siena, Italy)

‘To those who have much, more will be given; and those who have little, even that will be taken from them.’ (Matthew 25:29)... (no, I don't think he was talking about compound interest)

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