letter twenty-eight to rahel: do brennt dr baum

my dearest fräulein hydrabert,

 

great news. for once i don’t have to just say it’ll be a short entry, nay, it actually will. can i get a collective woop woop, everyone? no? what’s that, you prefer the lengthy rambly ones? well, not today, my sweet pumpkin spice snowflake (what?). but they’ll be back. i promise.

photo-10-10-2016-19-09-44

montréal in the colours of autumn feat. some random people

there are two reasons why i don’t have as much to say this time ’round; a pleasant one and a less pleasant one. unpleasantness first: i had my wisdom teeth (well, two of ’em, but by the feels of it they might as well have yanked out my all of my ivories) pulled last tuesday, and therefore took it kind of slow this past week. much more pleasantly, i got to see you on thursday, and, despite the circumstances being more unfortunate than words can describe, it was oh so very lovely to see you again. i also used my chance to babble and drown you in an imposing waterfall of words, trying to recall and retell my life since we last truly spoke. that’s why there isn’t much to tell you about in here. as for my time since thursday, i’ve slowly morphed back from a little wood mouse in the facial cheek area to my weasely self, helped my mum weed both her closet and the parking space in front of our garages, metaphorically and literally respectively, walked dear luna, skyped marco to watch a two-hour film which ended up taking over five hours, met colin for a cuppa, and watched the latest dani levy flick (liam hated it, but had also refused to go see good ol’ miss peregrine, even though i truly want to see this movie adaptation of yet another book i’ve read) and “swiss army man” (i’m in two minds) with my mum and my brother as of tonight. see, not much to say. phew.

edgy

which is why i’m moving on to the book. i still love it. we must watch the movie, as i don’t remember it as well as i wish i did, and therefore am not all too sure where the differences truly lie. but it doesn’t really matter, i find; the story continues to move me and capture me in ways few others have. everything about it is so tragically beautiful. the mutual interest of sara and her favourite family share, the secret visits, the stories, the magic finally finding its way into sara’s life, the bittersweet knowledge that what she longs for so much lies just a few feet next to her shabby little room. mr burnett truly created a story of real beauty here, with actual, valuable life lessons, and an unusual sense of genuine hope in what might appear as a completely forlorn situation.

 

my love, i hope you’re taking a pause to jump into every pile of leaves you see, as i have been, and i shall see you in less than a week.

 

yours truly,

pschoieli

 

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