…that's cooled everything because I wasn't supposed to be here. But I didn't conceal the truth. I didn't alter my description of this world we share. I just didn't want to see you. Not now.
Please don't be upset. I'm not going to lie. I'm an only child and we don't lie very well. You'd see through it and be insulted.
I could have written something, but correspondence is one-sided. It requires love to be meaningful. Not just romantic love. You know I don't limit it to just that. Unless pure, unabridged emotion is offered as an insult or gush, then sentences are omitted, revised. The text is considered carefully as the writer turns in front of her three panel mirror of past, present and future tense. Does this fit right? Will she understand me? Will he get this? Will they even care?
I like to use words. When I was younger I could gush. Sometimes just for the sound. Sometimes for the complex stew of ideas I hoped would be measured in the depth of feeling. Or brightness of detail. But I learned that no one really wanted to listen to all that. Compression seemed better, at parties or work. Or here.
Have you heard this one?
I sat on the edge of the pond and marveled at the water-striders.I learned it was even better to abridge my words. Elide the Latin and repeat what powerful men say. The silence of the smallest words came naturally then.
The wind scattered them like leaves and they remained dry.
I knew that I would sink and drown.
You think I've been avoiding you. You are right. Not all days. Just now I wanted to be alone. To have this coffee and air to myself and my thoughts. But now you know. I have been apprehended. Why?
After a life whereof I cannot speak, sometimes I want to be silent.
*(Schweigen is the German verb meaning 'to remain silent.' It's the last word of this book. A favorite of mine.)