Observations on Correspondence (7)

I've held few correspondences in my life, unsurprising, expected, for I've held few households for great lengths of time, such as the summer I spent before moving to Portugal when my enthusiasm exceeded my stomach, by which I mean that I would forego lunch and breakfast, though only twice, in order to save for the long-distance postage, a distance which has since shrunken, or, rather, a price which has since shrunken, not unlike friend in Haiti whose admiration for the world of letters has diminished for reasons I shall not discuss, not here, not now, not me.