I want to say sorry to you for rejecting your lunch noon, even though you might think that it doesn’t matter at all.

I’m afraid you might overthink it(something like I don’t like your lunch). I rejected you because I think you guys didn’t have too much food, and we have a strange culture which is called polite refusal. Sometimes we even find other reasons to reject others. I don’t like it, whereas I have this habit.

I hope you weren’t overthinking about this. Your lunch looked good and delicious, especially, that it looked like pizza or omelette. I’m glad to try it next time if you have some extra food.

And I also hope you don’t mind this long message. I was going to tell you tomorrow, nevertheless this thing occupies my mind now.

I also want to use this opportunity to boost my writing skills in English.
Anyway, have a good night.

Reply:
Hi Jinpeng, no worries! I was not overthinking. I happy to share that space with you guys. Yes there may be people from another cultures who overthinking too much 😂, it was ok for me. I didn’t found it disrespectful or anything bad. Anyway thank you for telling me ! I appreciate it

Recently, our exchanges through letters have become fewer, but I don’t think it’s a bad thing. Most of the time, we’re able to openly and sincerely share our thoughts with each other. However, there are things that our clumsy tongues can’t quite express—words on paper still carry a unique power.

Lately, I’ve noticed that something seems off with you. I’ve asked you about it, and your response was that you’re worried about the upcoming separation we’ll soon face.
That’s something I think about every day, too. But with you, I’ve also detected another subtle shift—something about the feeling of love, or the lack thereof.

From our conversations, I sense that you might feel the love between us is fading. You’ve started to interpret moments—like when I don’t glance at you for a few seconds because my phone is in my hand—as signs that I’ve changed. And I, too, have noticed that our conversations aren’t as frequent as before, that perhaps you’re sharing a little less with me.

Recently, I’ve been making a conscious effort to go to bed earlier after a period of late nights. I think it’ll be better for both our mental states. But every night when I say goodnight to you, I can’t help but pick up on your low spirits.

In those moments, I wonder: Is she thinking that I don’t want to talk to her anymore? Neither of us wants to hang up, but the night is indeed late. You have to work hard every day, and if I stay up too late, I’ll feel drained and my eyes will ache. So, almost always, I’m the one who suggests ending the call. It seems like such a tiny thing, but I imagine someone as sensitive as you might overthink it.

Solving small problems is both simple and hard. If we were together, there’d be no room for unnecessary thoughts or issues. The difficulty lies in the reality that we can’t be together every day, and so these things arise.

Additionally, my recent semi-reclusive lifestyle means I might not have as much to share, but I still want to stay connected with you as much as possible, especially when you have free time. Your friends, studies, and other commitments are important too, and I always try to show full respect for them—but that doesn’t mean I don’t care.

I believe the bond between us hasn’t weakened—at least, not on my end. In fact, you’ve become the vast majority of my social time.

Change and constancy are both objective truths. We must pay attention to what shifts, but we must also hold tightly to what remains eternal.

Love,
Zhuzhu

May 30, 2025, Night

The night is quiet, with only the occasional whisper of the wind brushing past the window. The dim glow of streetlights filters through the curtains, casting faint shadows on the walls.

Time slips away unnoticed, like grains of sand between fingers. The world outside is hushed, as if holding its breath in anticipation of something unknown. Thoughts drift aimlessly, carried by the stillness of the hour.

Perhaps this is the essence of night—a moment suspended between yesterday and tomorrow, a fleeting pause in the relentless march of time.

May 30, 2025, night.

“If you were Charlie, would you choose to undergo the surgery?” you asked in your last letter.

At the time, my answer was no—ignorance is bliss. But after reading most of the book, I’ve begun to reconsider—this time, through the lens of love.

In the first half of Flowers for Algernon, I had always believed that Charlie’s mother, Rose, was the only person in the world who truly cared for and loved him. I even mistook his father Matt’s calm demeanor for indifference. When everyone else had given up hope that Charlie could ever become “normal,” I was moved by Rose’s relentless determination—whether she was scolding Charlie, pleading with doctors, or arguing with Matt.

But everything changed with Norma’s arrival. It became clear that Rose’s persistence wasn’t about Charlie’s well-being; it was about proving to others that her child wasn’t an idiot—or that she wasn’t the reason for his condition.

The more she tried to prove herself, the more desperate she appeared, the more she clung to the hope of Charlie becoming “smart”—all of which only revealed her subconscious disdain for him. This subconscious rejection ultimately manifested in her threatening Matt with a knife, forcing him to take Charlie away that very night.

In contrast, Matt’s attitude was far more rational and genuine. He believed Charlie had the right to live his own life, even if it was the life of a “simpleton.” He was more concerned with his own survival, with the things he despised and the things he desired. His lack of obsession, his refusal to force anything—that was his way of respecting Charlie.

Now, back to your question: Would we choose the surgery? I think, more often than not, if we were in Charlie’s shoes, we wouldn’t actually have the luxury of choosing the life we want.

What I’ve been pondering instead is: What if we were Rose? Or Matt? Or Norma? Or even Alice? What would we do? That feels more realistic, more practically meaningful for the future. After all, we’re bound to encounter people like Charlie—strangers, neighbors, relatives, children, even friends. Would they be friends?

Could the people in the book be someone we know in real life? If we were Charlie, would we resent them? Would Norma resent her parents? Probably not.

Recognizing true love is difficult. Most of the time, we’re just Charlie wetting his pants, not the Charlie with superhuman intelligence.

Maybe not recognizing it is the better choice—just like refusing the surgery might be.

Love,
Zhuzhu
April 14, 2025

P.S. Character relationship chart:

Recently, my work has started to slow down. I really love this grounded feeling of focusing intensely to finish tasks and then leisurely sending emails. Today is Friday, and we’ll be seeing each other soon. Just thinking about it makes my heart play Like Sunday, Like Rain uncontrollably—haha, I’ve been completely obsessed with this song lately.

I want to share with you a book I just finished: Flowers for Algernon. By the end, I was sobbing uncontrollably, secretly shedding “little pearls” again.

The protagonist, Charlie Gordon, is a man with an intellectual disability. He is kind-hearted, diligent at work, and eager to become smarter, but due to his congenital condition, he faces constant discrimination. One day, he is selected to participate in a scientific experiment. The experiment successfully enhanced the intelligence of a white mouse named Algernon, and now Charlie is the human subject, undergoing brain surgery to boost his intellect. After the surgery, Charlie’s IQ skyrockets. He attends university, studies, and becomes a knowledgeable genius. But as his mind awakens, he begins to recall lost familial love from his childhood, the mockery and exclusion from his so-called “friends,” and the complexities of human nature in modern society. He realizes that even after becoming smarter, the things he thought he would gain start to crumble. To the experimenters, he is merely a successful test subject, not a person deserving of respect, care, or acceptance.

Later, Algernon’s intelligence suddenly declines, and he dies. Through his research, Charlie discovers that the intelligence enhancement is only temporary, inevitably followed by decline and death. Charlie faces the agony of a countdown to his end, slowly approaching death.

After finishing the book, I began pondering some questions.

What is a person?

I remember that night when you asked me, “What is a person?” At the time, I answered from a biological perspective, but your answer was, “A person is the sum of social relationships.” Throughout the book, after Charlie gains high intelligence, he repeats over and over, “I am a person. I was a person even before the surgery.” Whether now or in the past, what we pursue as “personhood” is no longer just about using tools, thinking, or walking upright. It carries a strong social dimension—we crave recognition, care, and fulfillment. But was Charlie, with his intellectual disability, not a person before? He was kind, sincere, hardworking, self-sufficient, and persistent in learning. In my heart, he already surpassed many so-called “normal” people.

Does enhanced intelligence make one a person?

I don’t think so. If someone’s intelligence is heightened but they lack emotions, they’re no different from a cold machine. The book says, “Without the tempering of human emotions, intelligence and education are utterly worthless.” The measure of a person shouldn’t rely solely on scientific metrics. Extraordinary intelligence doesn’t grant someone a radiant soul. As independent individuals within social relationships, learning helps us cultivate better personalities. And the bonds we form with others allow us to better understand ourselves and the world.

If you were Charlie, would you undergo the surgery? (What about you, Zhuzhu?)

I think I would. Even if it meant facing the pain of intellectual decline and death like he did, I’d still choose it. Looking at Charlie’s life, his “moment of brilliance” was fleeting, but it was largely fulfilling. After his intelligence improved, he acquired vast knowledge, mastered multiple languages, and conducted independent research. When he learned his intelligence would decline, he returned to the home he had lost and regained warmth from his family. He found love and realized it wasn’t just about physical intimacy. He went back to the bakery where he once worked and found true friends. Those around him, upon learning of his journey, came to respect his courage and pursuit, and Charlie ultimately earned recognition as a person. If I were destined to live a stable but ignorant life in darkness, but had even a sliver of a chance to grasp the light, I’d choose that path without hesitation, just like Charlie.

Zhuzhu, I think whether we’re in darkness or light, or whether others are in darkness or light, we must always strive for the world and the love we originally envisioned. In that world, we treat every life as equal and worthy of respect, never mocking others or flaunting our arrogance.

The book opens with a quote from Plato’s Republic:

“Anyone with common sense remembers that the eyes can be confused in two ways and from two causes: coming from light into darkness or from darkness into light. The same applies to the mind’s eye. When someone sees a soul confused and unable to see clearly, they shouldn’t laugh mindlessly but ask whether this soul has just come from a brighter life and is unable to see because it’s unaccustomed to the dark, or whether it’s come from darkness into the light and is dazzled by the brilliance. They would consider one happy for their condition and circumstances, and pity the other. Or if they must laugh at the soul emerging from the light, their laughter would be less absurd than laughing at the soul returning from the darkness into the light.”

Love,
Huanhuan

March 28, 2025

Seeing the tears in your eyes made me realize how deeply saddened you are by Mom’s decision to move to Shuicheng.

But it seems there’s nothing we can do. We’re constantly pushed forward by life’s unavoidable circumstances while trying our best to make the most of it.

We’ve grown accustomed to being children, unwilling to face the separation of our big family, and wanting to keep it intact. You’ve always been the one who spent the most time with Mom and Dad, so of course, you’re also the one who finds it hardest to let go.

Things are always changing—some changes may bring us comfort, while others may bring pain. We naturally prefer staying in our comfort zones, but the more people and things involved, the harder it becomes to maintain that comfort.

What I want to say is, this might not necessarily be a bad thing. Although it may seem like Mom is the one who will struggle the most with the adjustment, society is evolving, and we must actively adapt to keep up with the times.

Mom and Dad, you and your husband, Manman and Ningning—all of us will eventually leave this place, whether in a few years or a decade or so. This land can no longer provide the stable, happy life we desire. Moreover, we may have hopes, dreams, and aspirations that this place simply can’t fulfill.

So, having the opportunity to leave is, in my opinion, a good thing. At the very least, we’ll gain access to slightly better healthcare, education, and other modern conveniences.

Of course, you already understand all this. What I also want to say is: physical distance won’t weaken the emotional bonds between us. With today’s advanced communication tools, no matter where we are, we can always stay connected. And if the need arises, we can be by each other’s side in no time. In fact, this might give us more places to call home and allow our children and parents to experience more of life—after all, life is about experiences.

So don’t be sad. The difficulties are only temporary. Being apart from our parents will make us stronger and braver, better equipped to face and overcome life’s challenges. In doing so, we’ll embody their spirit, just as they did, and become role models for our own children.

Sige, Panguan, Hongguo, Shuicheng—none of these places are really that far away. We’re all just leaving home for a little while, and we’ll all return to this place eventually. This big family will always be here.

Wishing you all the best.

Da Peng
March 25, 2025

It’s been a long, long time since I last wrote to you. Recently, we read Mr. Lao She’s “On Writing” together, but my flaws and habits still need improvement. I hope that each letter I write to you from now on will show a little progress! This letter has taken a long time to write, and the longer I spent on it, the more I wanted to add new things. So, just take a casual look at it.

Time flies, and we are about to face many opportunities and choices. Over these past few months, we’ve shared countless late-night video calls—whether quiet, argumentative, or filled with laughter—each moment ordinary yet precious to us. A while ago, I saw how disheartened and hardworking you were while applying for the CSC, staying up late and falling ill. I wanted to be there for you in every moment, to hold you close. I remember one night when my eyes suddenly welled up with tears. I felt sad because I couldn’t help you with the problems you were facing. As you mentioned in your last letter, our states of mind affect each other. So, I want to be there for you whenever you need me, even if we just sit quietly together for a while. Zhu Zhu, regarding studying abroad, even if there’s only the slightest chance, we shouldn’t give up, because this could be the spark that defines your life. If it doesn’t work out this year, there will be opportunities in the future, and I will support you just as I do now. So, please don’t be afraid; I’m here to face it with you.

Recently, I found myself caught in an emotional whirlpool. I started questioning, “Am I good enough for you?” “How can our relationship last?” “How can I keep up with you?” During those days, I was consumed by self-doubt, and the fear of the unknown future gradually clouded my vision and numbed my feelings. I am an extremely conflicted and timid person, imagining separation in every moment of joy. I truly believe in the love that flows between us, but I also automatically prepare myself for countless scenarios where it might dissolve into bubbles, building walls around my heart. Zhu Zhu, thank you for patiently listening to me and replying to my letter, which has greatly healed me. This has been a tremendous encouragement for me. Through our time together, I’ve gradually learned to relax in front of you, to try to depend on you, and to slowly integrate you into my life. I revisited our letters to find answers. From the very beginning of our relationship, you’ve given me a sense of complete security. Every time, it was you who mustered the courage to come closer to me, so all my assumptions were unfounded. Now, all we need to do is boldly open our arms to embrace each other and breathe deeply. Zhu Zhu, please forgive my occasional panic; it’s just a stubborn, clumsy reaction.

As for the future and the possibility of being apart, whether near or far, I believe we will both work hard and grow roots in our respective fields. Although I’m not entirely sure what I want to do, just like before, I want to try whatever comes to mind without fearing the outcome. Zhu Zhu, being with you has highlighted my shortcomings, but I also look forward to my own growth. The best way to ease my anxiety is to take action—whether it’s reading, studying, exercising… As long as we’re making progress every day, there’s nothing to fear. I really want to see what the future holds for us together.

Zhu Zhu, the results of your application might just be a fork in the road in the grand scheme of our lives, but…What I desire is to walk alongside you, no matter where your chosen path may lead. You are never a lone adventurer, but a soul deeply enveloped in love.

To conclude with the words from “Loving You is Like Loving Life”: “I give you my entire soul, along with its quirks, its little tantrums, its flickering light and shadow, and its eighteen hundred flaws. It’s truly annoying, but it has one redeeming quality—it loves you.”

Zhu Zhu, thank you for loving the complete me!

With love,
Huan Huan
March 4, 2025

It’s been a while since I last wrote to you. Recently, I had been under the impression that we were in a very harmonious state. If you hadn’t told me, I wouldn’t have realized the inner journey you’ve been going through. It’s essential that you share these things with me because these issues are like whirlpools; struggling alone, you might only sink deeper.

So, I’m glad you told me, but seeing you upset, I’m at a loss for what to do. The answers to these problems don’t lie with me, and you know I’m not one to offer empty words.

Reflecting on this, it seems the issue isn’t new. Even before we started our relationship, we had discussed and pondered similar questions. The question of being “worthy” or not has never been a real issue, especially concerning economic capabilities. If we truly have a deep bond, then it’s impossible for one to improve while the other deteriorates or remains stagnant.

If we love each other, any change in one’s state will affect the other, in every aspect. Take the economic aspect, for example. If I become wealthy or you do, the result is that we become wealthier together, not that a wealth gap widens between us. Conversely, if I or you face financial difficulties, it merely means we’re not as affluent as before. The same goes for abilities, insights, and other aspects—we are one.

Thinking about this, I suddenly realize that our relationship resembles true communism. We shouldn’t emphasize “you” and “me”; what we seek isn’t personal but collective. It’s normal to have disagreements and worries because perhaps our bond isn’t strong enough to fully merge us. But I believe we don’t need to overly worry or seek promises. We both know what’s real and what’s not.

Falling into these whirlpools is often dangerous, and it’s hard to escape alone. As merged halves, like the souls of Nezha and Ao Bing, we can’t ignore each other’s struggles. When you’re caught in a whirlpool, I will inevitably step to its edge to rescue you, and I trust you’d do the same for me.

However, I might also get sucked into the whirlpool, and then we might end up like XX and YY. How long the whirlpool lasts, where it takes us, whether it escalates into something else, or if we vanish within it—these are possibilities we can foresee. But don’t worry; even so, we shouldn’t face the whirlpool alone without each other’s knowledge.

Dear Huanhuan, I don’t know if my words have eased your doubts.

The question of being “worthy” should only be a concern for matchmakers when arranging who meets whom, not in our hearts.

Zhu Zhu
February 14, 2025

Dear Professor Liu,

I hope this email finds you well.

With the CSC application process commencing next month, I am writing to update you on our preparation progress and seek your guidance regarding some potential challenges we have identified.

1. Preference Consideration of Guizhou Province Department of Education:
   According to our research, Guizhou Province Department of Education tends to prioritize applicants from major state-owned enterprises. While this is not an official requirement, it might influence the evaluation process.

2. Social Security Documentation:
   A continuous six-month social security payment record is strongly recommended, though not formally required. Due to my recent career transition (I left my previous position to focus on overseas study preparations), there is currently a gap in my employment records. Professor Hu is assisting me in addressing this matter through alternative documentation.

3. Alternative Application Channel:
   We are currently consulting with relevant departments at Guizhou University to explore potential institutional endorsement opportunities. I will keep you updated on any developments.

Despite these challenges, we remain committed to submitting the possible application.
In addition, there are some required Information from your side. Could I kindly request you to provide the following information as the picture shows when convenient, any language is okay:

1. your professional and technical title and your position.
2. Job or part-time job in famous academic organizations at domestic and abroad
3. Work experience, main research areas, works published and important papers published in the past five years, key scientific research projects hosted, and important academic achievements and rewards obtained; cooperation with foreign institutions/mentors.

Your expert advice on optimizing our application strategy would be greatly appreciated.

Wishing you a prosperous Year of the Snake.

Best regards,
Jinpeng

Original version

Dear Professor Liu:

I hope this email finds you well.

The application work of CSC will start at next month, and also we are preparing the materials about the CSC now. There are some potential problems might generate the positive effects for the result of application.

First，I learned that the GuiZhou province more perfer to support the candidate who from the large state-owned enterprises excepts. further，the continuious record of social-ensure is essential condition, about six month, though this is not the formal condition. I quit my previous job due to it is impossible that go aboard from previous job. I’ve had a few months before is the umemployed status. therefore I cannot meet this demand.

I already told Professfor Hu about this problems, and he is helping me to solve this problem. nevertheless, we will continue attempt to sumbit a application to CSC.

And in the application problems, there are some information about you. I hope you can give me some about when you have a free time.

On the other hand, we are positive to inquiry the related person at Guizhou University, looking forward to seeking the application tunnel from Guizhou University.

anyway, we are positive and brave face it.

Good luck in the Year of the Snake.

Best regards
Jinpeng

Coming to my home has hurt you deeply, and seeing you in pain makes my heart ache as well. I’ve never believed that marriage must have parental blessings to be happy—happiness is something we define for ourselves. Our relationship, including the decision to marry, was made thoughtfully by the two of us. How many of our parents’ generation married for love? At least my parents didn’t. My father, in particular, carries more of a sense of responsibility than love. Perhaps his perspective has limited his ability to recognize or feel love, but that doesn’t mean our happiness needs his approval.

Regarding the word “disdain,” I want to apologize. Those words were hurtful, but my father wouldn’t truly act that way in reality. Later, I also realized he knew he was wrong—unfortunately, he doesn’t know how to apologize or admit fault, maybe because of his pride as an elder. If he truly behaved that way toward your family, I would choose to distance myself from him. I don’t expect him to accept us. I’ll consciously dismiss his unreasonable, negative remarks as just words—nothing more—and not let them weigh on my heart or make you suffer. No matter what happens, I’ll remain as firm as I was last night, standing my ground without hesitation. Whatever comes next, leave it to me.

I love your home, Zhuzhu. Your parents, your brother and sister—they’re warm and optimistic. That lively, joyful atmosphere is something I’ve never experienced in my own family. Ours has always been so quiet and cold, which is why holidays never meant much to me—until I came to your home. Here, I finally felt the warmth and liveliness of a family. I adore every one of them, and these past few days have been so comfortable and freeing for me. The only thing on my mind was how I could contribute.

During my time here, I’ve seen your mother rise early to light the stove, watched the children gather happily around the table to eat, and noticed the busy yet cheerful smiles. I’ve seen your father holding little Yubao with such joy and reluctance in his eyes. I’ve heard your sister affectionately call out to Dalong and Dapeng, as if catching a glimpse of your childhood—Manman and Ningning’s laughter and playfulness, so innocent and carefree. All of this feels like a distant dream to me, a precious experience I’ve never had. That night on the rooftop, bathed in starlight and mist, my heart began to long for this kind of life and beauty. Because of you, I suddenly see family life in vibrant color, breaking through the rigid black-and-white order of my own home.

Last night, seeing you cry and feeling heartbroken for your mother—I understand completely. When someone spoke poorly of my mother before, I felt the same pain. It hurts to think of everything she’s done for others in her life, only to be looked down upon or disliked because of one wrong decision. Even if it were my grandfather, I would speak up for her. Our mothers are ordinary yet extraordinary—kind-hearted, hardworking, and endlessly giving for their families. Their bright laughter is one of the most precious things in this world!

Love,
[Your Name]

Zhu Zhu, our future is our own, it lies within us, so don’t be afraid. No matter what happens, I will stand firmly by your side to face all uncertainties and challenges together. We will grow, progress, and move forward hand in hand, so don’t be afraid!

欢：

最近过得不是很好，总觉得自己像是一坛腌菜一样，笼罩在一种很压抑的情绪之中。

The rest of the words is in the paper.

Apr 16, 2024

欢欢

你好啊，希望你点进来之前有一些惊喜，点进来之后也是。这是我上个月搭建的博客网站，用来记录一些东西。之前的服务器过期了没有再续费，也没时间整理。我想将我们之间的信件放在这里是合适的，我设置了搜索隐藏，只有有链接的人才能找到。

前些天听到一首很好听的歌，当时忍住没给你分享，就是等到现在。不出意外你应该已经听到了。

你写字好漂亮！近期最开心的一刻就是拿到你的信件的那一刻。

看来你的愿望马上就要实现了，非常替你感到开心，照顾好爱自己的人真的是一件特别难得的事情，我一直都做得很差劲，哎。

我最近一直都感觉时间不够，效率也不够高，很是焦虑。这两晚都睡得很晚，晚上想着睡早点又担心想着一天都没干啥，想多学一会明天又会没精神。计划这个月末参加一次考试试试水，根据目前的情况多半还是不会过。老师一直在push我。

最近发现一个补充能量的地方——晚上的广场或公园，尤其是有许多人跳广场舞的地方。我可以坐在旁边自顾自的干自己的事情而全然不顾他们的眼光，就像我是他们的同伴一样，只是我没有参与他们跳舞。

最后，关于你提到的字少的问题，我想这压根不是一个问题。我们可以只说一句话，甚至是不说话。我们也可以待时机成熟时将我们各自记录多年或珍藏多年的东西拿出来分享，不要让我们之间的交流有任何的压力。

安！

Dearest Clare,

As I write this, I am sitting at my desk in the back bedroom looking out at your studio across the backyard full of blue evening snow, everything is slick and crusty with ice, and it is very still. It’s one of those winter evenings when the coldness of every single thing seems to slow down time, like the narrow center of an hourglass which time itself flows through, but slowly, slowly. I have the feeling, very familiar to me when I am out of time but almost never otherwise, of being buoyed up by time, floating effortlessly on its surface like a fat lady swimmer. I had a sudden urge, tonight, here in the house by myself (you are at Alicia’s recital at St. Lucy’s) to write you a letter. I suddenly wanted to leave something, for after.

I think that time is short, now. I feel as though all my reserves, of energy, of pleasure, of duration, are thin, small. I don’t feel capable of continuing very much longer. I know you know. If you are reading this, I am probably dead. (I say probably because you never know what circumstances may arise; it seems foolish and self-important to just declare one’s own death as an out-and-out fact.) About this death of mine—I hope it was simple and clean and unambiguous. I hope it didn’t create too much fuss. I’m sorry. (This reads like a suicide note. Strange.) But you know: you know that if I could have stayed, if I could have gone on, that I would have clutched every second: whatever it was, this death, you know that it came and took me, like a child carried away by goblins.

Clare, I want to tell you, again, I love you. Our love has been the thread through the labyrinth, the net under the high-wire walker, the only real thing in this strange life of mine that I could ever trust. Tonight I feel that my love for you has more density in this world than I do, myself: as though it could linger on after me and surround you, keep you, hold you. I hate to think of you waiting. I know that you have been waiting for me all your life, always uncertain of how long this patch of waiting would be. Ten minutes, ten days. A month. What an uncertain husband I have been, Clare, like a sailor, Odysseus alone and buffeted by tall waves, sometimes wily and sometimes just a plaything of the gods. Please, Clare. When I am dead. Stop waiting and be free. Of me—put me deep inside you and then go out in the world and live. Love the world and yourself in it, move through it as though it offers no resistance, as though the world is your natural element. I have given you a life of suspended animation. I don’t mean to say that you have done nothing. You have created beauty, and meaning, in your art, and Alba, who is so amazing, and for me: for me you have been everything. After my mom died she ate my father up completely. She would have hated it. Every minute of his life since then has been marked by her absence, every action has lacked dimension because she is not there to measure against. And when I was young I didn’t understand, but now, I know, how absence can be present, like a damaged nerve, like a dark bird. If I had to live on without you I know I could not do it. But I hope, I have this vision of you walking unencumbered, with your shining hair in the sun. I have not seen this with my eyes, but only with my imagination, that makes pictures, that always wanted to paint you, shining; but I hope that this vision will be true, anyway.

Clare, there is one last thing, and I have hesitated to tell you, because I’m superstitiously afraid that telling might cause it to not happen (I know: silly) and also because I have just been going on about not waiting and this might cause you to wait longer than you have ever waited before. But I will tell you in case you need something, after. Last summer, I was sitting in Kendrick’s waiting room when I suddenly found myself in a dark hallway in a house I don’t know. I was sort of tangled up in a bunch of galoshes, and it smelled like rain. At the end of the hall I could see a rim of light around a door, and so I went very slowly and very quietly to the door and looked in. The room was white, and intensely lit with morning sun. At the window, with her back to me, sat a woman, wearing a coral-colored cardigan sweater, with long white hair all down her back. She had a cup of tea beside her, on a table. I must have made some little noise, or she sensed me behind her…she turned and saw me, and I saw her, and it was you, Clare, this was you as an old woman, in the future. It was sweet, Clare, it was sweet beyond telling, to come as though from death to hold you, and to see the years all present in your face. I won’t tell you any more, so you can imagine it, so you can have it unrehearsed when the time comes, as it will, as it does come. We will see each other again, Clare. Until then, live, fully, present in the world, which is so beautiful.

It’s dark, now, and I am very tired. I love you, always. Time is nothing.

Henry