letter eighteen to gioia: climb ev’ry mountain

my dearest,

hello from the mountains! what was originally planned as a summery camping weekend at the lake neuchâtel has been transferred to a quite wintery weekend in the alps. oh well, you gotta deal with what you get, right? when life gives you lemons, ladida. and so we dealt. left the tent and beach towels at home and packed winter boots and scarves instead. and then the weather surprised us by not being rainy and icky all the time, but mostly cloudy with lovely fog and even sun sometimes instead. perfect for a lazy weekend playing games, talking, eating (rhubarb crumble!) and just being (ideal for someone who is still recovering from the very strange attack on her health that, incidentally, also kept her from going to the muse concert she had tickets to. oh well.)

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not that we spent the whole time inside, though. we ventured into the great outdoors to take walks that led us through the forest where we spotted wild hares and to lakes with little islands that by the look of them can’t not be enchanted. impossible. and yet another outing took us into chur where we will now probably be remembered forevermore. starting the evening innocently at a record launch, drinking a little too much of the wine made by one of the band members and then dancing our way through probably all of chur’s danceable and non-danceable places (we danced anyway, of course).

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and now it’s our last day and thinking of tomorrow means thinking about all the work we were supposed to do for uni this weekend and didn’t end up doing, so it’s probably best to not think about tomorrow yet. any distraction is welcome, procrastination the order of the day. maybe one or two things about the book first?

shit is going down. being in the mountains, with green fields just outside the window, i have the feeling i’m even more immersed in the book than otherwise. i can almost see boldwood storming off into the woods after his outburst, leaving a distraught bathsheba behind. personally, i’d like to go up to bathsheba and give her a wake-up call. she’s so helplessly stubborn and blind, but then why wouldn’t she. and good thing she is, otherwise the read wound’t be half as exciting. this is exactly what i remember from the movie; the itch to just go and give the girl a good talk and lay down the facts. not that she’d believe me.

you better believe me though when i tell you that you are going to nail it tonight. there’s not a doubt in my mind, so please shove all of yours somewhere they can’t get to you. i’ll be thinking of you and i’ll be sending all the vibes. while i can’t be there physically i’ll be there every other way.

yours,

rahel

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