My Dear Alex,
Your email of the 17th instant arrived today and was pleasant and enchanting. Of the kind and tender sentiments, you have expressed therein you have to equal. I did think of writing to you today anyway, even though I see to be going a long way to throw things topsy-turvy and I am wondering how soon it will be before I turn plain crazy. But your sweet epistle was here and the request from you to write often, and so Alex dear, I will endeavor to send you lines as often as I can. Your pleasure and satisfaction is a source of joy to me too.
Somewhere in the recent past, I figured out that those awful days of depression would die away soon, but little like the dreggy chill sunless weather – my days are smudged disinclination – the lone and unhappy listless way. My headaches are much better and after my short stay on leave, I have started going to the office once more. The days are drizzling, dump and the slush and mire around me disgusting. It is very strange that one’s spirit should take on a melancholy air with the turn of weather too. And our evenings are quieter too – I invariably land on the couch with a special look that was given to me recently.
And if I should pass by my table, a pair of clear deep dark eyes would beckon me, and I would pass to sit and think of him that is unbelievably dear to me, in this world of woe and if I sat there for long at his sweet bidding, that transient bliss of young love, true, deep, and unequalled would flood me like the rush of loveliest rapture ever. O Alex, love knows much that knowledge cannot understand – that the storm of the human heart is higher than any storm of nature – of how the human heart could react when all around was stillness and quietude. Like the storm-driven winds rush on with impetuosity – so too does nature makes our passions and then mirror them. Love: what are isolations so that overwhelming conqueror. For moments of unending continuity – there is an all-consuming high range of passionate imagination – dreams that could visualize realms of indissoluble happiness – weighted with the dignity of thought. Even so, the rush is there but its pervading intensity is stately sweet only to stir an eternal yearning. Yes, Alex, love creates live and joy wherever it goes, that no matter how wide is the intervening distance – that no matter how wide to be hear 0 wild unrest woes of memory and association as if I had known you all my life and am now parted from you though that haze of half imagination a dear face shines across at me, veiling those blinding tears – tender – and I would wistfully long that those arms would become, hold me to him and kiss those tears.
But that, like the rest, would be considered only wistful longing or wishful thinking.
“I can’t prevent it darling I knew I can’t
Feign indifference where I knew adore
A constant heart – here a women’s lot
This a sad gift thou’ much applauded
On if I seemed to love you less you would
Manlike – I am sure – love me the more”
With this Alex dearest, I will terminate this dreary uninteresting note of mine. I do hope you are fine and all the rest too. My prayers for you and yours are ever with you. And till the sun shines once more here is a heartfelt ‘God Bless You Ever’
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