Dear girl,
When I opened the window yesterday, I found a breeze blowing out of my room. She said she was trapped there forever. Did you ever notice her?
I can, somehow, remember a day when I had been writing something on one of my dusty pages, when all of a sudden it began to flutter wildly. And I had thought it wanted to fly down to the bed where you slept.
Yesterday, when the breeze went out, the night came in through the same window. This time when I’d write, I’ll create invisibility.
You’d have more room to hide.
Kisses
Him.
‘This time when I’d write, I’ll create invisibility.’
Great idea. Its got me thinking about the environments we create when we write – we write places for us to inhabit – perhaps places more suited to us, places the real world fails to provide.
This feels a bit like a non-sequitor to me. And, yet I quite liked this sentence:
This time when I’d write, I’ll create invisibility.
which makes no sense at all without the context and given that I don’t understand the context one wonders how I can so like that sentence.
And, so, I’m left confused with how I feel about it. I think there’s something positive about that: I’ll have to think more.