I've been wondering lately about life, and about change. A common question people ask about cyborgs is: "at what point does machine take over man, and at what point does one stop being human?"
I've been thinking lately something similar, but perhaps a little different - at what point are you changed so much from your previous experiences that you stop being who you were? When does the influence of those around you mold your clay into a new vase? Will I always be that who I once was? Or am I so changed that I am born again? Will this happen every 5-10 years, or will I mellow now that I'm getting older? Stay the same? I'm not sure I know the answer...to any of this really. I hope I keep changing. I don't want to hit 60 or something and realise I've been the same man for 40 years. Part of the human experience should be growth and learning, I think.
But on the note of being human, I think another part of what makes us human is in fact experience. So I'd like to share with you that, about two weeks ago, I hung out my washing to dry in the garden at 10pm listening to 'why did you invite me to your wedding' by Kevin Atwater. I could hear a couple birds chirping as the sun set, and distantly heard that I had my dinner sizzling on the hob. It wasn't a particularly revolutionary experience, but it was one I've never had before - and, indeed, will never have again in quite that same way. I don't know, I know you've been making an effort to notice the little moments and details in life nowadays, so I thought perhaps you'd appreciate one from someone else.
I hope you're doing well, taking care of yourself and relaxing! At some point I'll visit the worst park in your city, mark my words. Hope to see you there.

about
I think about people from my past often, especially those who have long forgotten me, and I am overcome by the desire to write them a letter, with no intention of actually sending them. Perhaps some things are left unspoken. But I like to flirt with danger, and by putting them on here, there is a very slim, but non-zero chance my subjects will happen upon the sentiments meant for them. Maybe I want them to know. Or maybe I just want to catharsise. But I sure as hell am not posting any of them directly.
your letters