4 March 2014
I am here at the dinner table, tapping away at my phone, hoping I’ll finally be able to send a letter into the void this time, and have it reach you. I miss you; I miss having letters to give and receive each day–it’s become such an integral part of my life.
I am quite annoyed at a lot of things that are getting in the way–the ongoing renovations that keep on dislodging the cables and whatnot, our cable service provider that is responsible for our internet connection, the emails that keep coming endlessly that I am almost drowning. And so on. Whenever I have a window of opportunity and get a sliver of internet, the data allowance is so small that I am unable to do anything else except watch the emails come trickling in my phone.
All this to say–I apologize for not being more present here, with you. I just read your most recent letter. With me it’s not so much as having a lot of things unsaid (although there is that, too)–it’s more about finding the means to be able to tell you things. Of course if we live next door to each other it wouldn’t be a problem, but there are countries between us, and it’s a bit complicated, bridging that gap, when technology is not on my side.
But I am not my internet connection, and people have long ago been writing letters with a tenacity. So I’ll keep on doing that, and find a workaround so you can finally read them.