Notes

Dear Fia,

Some words are able to reach our minds and hearts like the sunlight filtering through the clouds on a rainy day. Like the first spring flower emerging from the snow, isn't it? I am wondering now what ocults the veil of your state of absolute shock engendered by me. Joy? Tell me, among all these aforementioned ruminations, have you one, particularly, that has managed to rise above the others?

Now, before we abandon ourselves to the current of the river of this conversation, the sense of duty prompts me to warn you, that my mind may be rather strange and unusual; also a little, just, a bit eccentric. Maybe, like in Greek mythology, you will need a ball of yarn so you do not get lost, on the labyrinth of my wonderland, because to become the 'Mad Hatter', all that is required of me is the hat. Being you armed with this information, are you still willing to launch into the rabbit hole?

Here is a new item to be added to a potentially growing list of the similarities to connect the two of us: the fondness for Mythologies. The title of the book lacks relevance when the sap of its contents flows on abundance within us. The essence of this word, "Meraki", integrates the code of conduct that I have embraced for my existence, as I bestow tonnes of life to my days, instead of just living them as if every sunrise on the horizon of life or every sunset was the same, when it is not. And it will never be for the one who allows it. If we know how to perceive the silent splendour around. Away from all pairs of eyes sometimes—naturally— but dreadfully close to the pulsation of some hearts. Those hearts, exposed to the world, as when we stop contemplating the rain through the window to feel it drop by drop on our skin. People around the globe crave to do what they love when they can, all the times, by all the means and the ways; in all possible, impossible and improbable places. At all the times and as long as ever they can. However, few among them also seek to love what they do under those equal terms regardless of the nature of the activity and the quality of the external impact—the positive or negative, or even neutral, reaction—that the performance of this activity may receive from others. Learn to see the flowers growing through the asphalt.Be able to do what we love and love what we do. It is a combination with an air of utopia for a considerable audience that feels like catching the wind with a net. But if the human being, instead of trying to capture the wind, allows himself to feel it, to be in the company of the wind. The wind will always blow towards him, because the wind was captivated, not captured.

Through that unexpected and welcome literary experience you have had, you are able to see how much of your patience can be gained if well directed. As for us being products of the thought and opinion of others; we really are products, simultaneously subroducts and developers of them, if we look at the situation through the lens of the fact that these same people are products and subproducts of social influence exerted visual mental and verbally. It is a horrendous vicious cycle that has been perpetuated by humanity through the toxic comparison. Few are those who see with their own eyes and feel with their own hearts. The overvaluation of the opinion from others to the detriment of own is—from my perspective— a slow suicide of the someone's spirit. Fortunately, the power given to another is a power that can and must be claimed by each one as their spirits awaken to the need to break the self imposed shackles.

We share the same thought and desire regarding this topic. After all, both of us are at the mercy of the same spell cast by Language. You present yourself to the world with an open heart in relation not only to your passions, I dare say. I feel that your heart is completely exposed, not to be displayed like a work of art in a museum—to be admired or judged—, you keep it exposed; perhaps, because you do not want layers of barriers between your heart and the marrow of life. Even if your heart were to be broken by some external or internal factor, you would never hide it under all organic layers again or condemn it to feel the world through the skeleton in the absence of these layers. The beauty and the ugliness. The pleasure and the pain. Every crack through which light penetrates and through which it emanates. Every shadow. Each of these things makes us—our hearts, our minds and our souls—a masterpiece on eternal improvement, Fia. We are always changing colors; the shapes; the techniques with which we present our art to the world.

Even though I have come into this world devoid of expectations orbiting around others, for the only expectations I cherish are those that center on my own person, I have enjoyed your company through our letters. So, the relief comes like a breeze to my heart knowing that my words reach yours accurately. They are rooted in the ground with the best of intentions. Still, I recognize the frailty that accompanies the beginnings of a potential friendship. As for the very depressing subject. If what is normal for the spider is chaos for the fly. Perhaps the subject will not present itself as depressing. Anyway, I would like you to know that I will seek to embrace as a planet everything you want to share with me. I intend to be here for you as long as your heart desires. I can become your journal; notebook of dreams you had in the form of a person whose interest matches the height he holds. Jokes aside, the friendship that I have to offer to someone is genuine and unconditional, but it comes with challenging clauses: having myself around is like having as friend Henry DeTamble from the debut novel written by Audrey Niffengger. And not everyone has the patience of a Clare Abshire. On the other hand, as an Emily Dickinson poem says, "Forever – is composed of Nows". I have countless 'nows', despite the—probable— imminent absence accompanied by a certainty of a return on my part to offer. But when my approach is allowed, the implications apart, my presence tends to be accompanied by the sweet possibility of touching the forever that one second can have. Like a dream that, however ephemeral it is, manages to reverberate strongly in us. By the way, speaking of dreams, what is your relationship with the dreams? Tell me, have you the habit of remembering the content of them?

Oh, of course, precisely, it was rude indeed. But I understood them in a way that they could not understand me at that time. Each person builds a version of us; feels us in a unique way and
the people offer what they have to offer at that level of their lives. Besides, I had a handful of understanding in my pocket. Exactly, each person adopts their way of expressing themselves through writing. Myself, for example. My writing can easily adapt to the writing the other person is familiar with; nevertheless, when I feel there is an opening door for me to come to express myself on the way my personal preferences lean, preferences dictated by the moment, I aim to write with one hand without filters while the other holds the hand of the Intuition. Always hoping for the best and prepared for the worst, unaccompanied by rancours. Rancour is like ingesting oleander, waiting for the other to go into a coma or have your life cut short by the act.

Fascinating. We finally find something where we are—partially—opposites. As for me, I am a slow writer with a tendency to immerse myself on what I write constantly; to experience every event, every emotion, sensation and feeling with every cell of the body and every piece of the soul; savoring the words as if they were an exotic delicacy, letting them ripen on the oak barrels of my mind like whiskey as I write with surrender and devotion to the Muse. We are partially opposed because the only contrast between us in this department is the "cadence" of each other. The surrender to the moment is the same. Like snowflakes. Different from each other, but still snowflakes.

Tell me, Fia, if you were on an elevator, with a single person at your side, and the elevator suddenly stopped working. Which member from Bangtan Boys would you wish to relish with your company during this period? I also enjoy Korean music, by the way, which leads me to make the following recommendation: when the opportunity arises on your horizon listen to the cover of 'Dynamite' made by the girls from the band Rolling Quartz. I wonder if your interest extends beyond the musical factor like mine. Have you ever read a book written by a Korean author? One of my current readings was conceived by a Korean mind.

Back to the subject...

"Music and rhythm find their way into the secret places of the soul." Words from Plato. I have that category of connection to the Music, but not to a particular band, group or singer. I feel like I am an adept of Polyamory towards the favorites I have. I travel through time and space with all the content that I listen to. With all the content that I read and watch. A song becomes eternal as long as a heart beats for it and a soul is able to welcome it inside. From my perspective, the Music harbors the ability to weaken barriers rather than build new ones—or strengthen existing ones. We are stripped of all labels and social masks through it. We are naked, often literally while listening to music. Dressed only on our own humanity.

Which musical genres are not to your liking? Have you ever come across one exception among them, like a song that captivated you despite everything? There have been occasions when I have been positively surprised by genres that are far from my cup of tea. The same for other types of content. For example: I watched a few weeks ago a Brazilian production whose the gender fit my preferences. 'Terapia do Medo', that was the title. 'Fear Therapy'. On the other hand, I did not remember having seen a Brazilian film that orbited around such a gender. I did not have a reference about on mind. It was time well invested on my part. Both the plot, the development, the photography and the acting fulfilled the proposal presented. I am rarely overcome with the feeling that I have invested precious minutes of my time on something that does not seem to be worth a second. I have been equipped with a very efficient eternal filtering system that allows me to find treasures hidden.

I had started this letter by listening to 'Wrecked' by Imagine Dragons. At some point, the place had been claimed by Faouzia with the song 'Bad Dreams'. Now, as I dedicate these lines to you, 'Holding Onto Gravity' by NELL. One of my favorite south-Korean rock bands. If you still do not know the band and the genre appeals to you, check out their musical legacy.

The instant you manifested your love for your name, at that very moment, without realizing it, you were thanking me for such a detail. That said, I must share with you this small, persistent and incandescent impression I had when my eyes rested on your figure and name. A glimpse whose echo I have not been able to extinguish since we started to correspond with each other. I felt that element 'Fire' meant something important to you. In fact, it was with that word swallowing its tail on my mind, like an Ouroboros, resulting in the comment involving words like 'ember', 'flame', and 'wildfire' orbiting around patience, I suppose. Including, I remembered the meaning in Latin, nevertheless, it was very late to add that detail because the letter had been sent. Afterwards, I thought I might be projecting my appreciation for the language. My path has not crossed that of many souls who share the same flame as me. You do it. How many flames are yet to be discovered, aren't? I will be patiently—but enthusiastically—waiting for each one. One Latin phrase that caresses and illuminates the abyssal depths of my being is "Memento Mori". How about you? The "endeavour" to bring myself as close as possible to the origins of your name. I was using hyperbole for humor purposes. You must provide that ball of yarn I wrote about above as soon as possible so as not to get lost on that labyrinth. Or rather, I believe that since the labyrinth is mine, the person providing this for you should be me, correct?
Anyway, if you get lost, I will help you find the way out.

Samuel Johnson, the English writer who made memorable contributions to literature, wrote that,"our brightest blazes of gladness are commonly kindled by unexpected sparks."

May our interactions blazing like a bonfire, fueled by tonnes of "unexpected sparks", Fia. This is the desire that reigns on my heart right now, as far as we are concerned.

Sincerely,

Sorin.