Notes

Dear Fia,

The genuine interest in something is, from my perspective, the sun that will allow the flower of your desire to emerge from the seed; seed watered by every drop of the attempt of yours. Whatever your desire is; have your desire the dimensions that it has, Fia, I would advise you to seek to walk your path towards the realization of it with "Meraki", allowing yourself to be guided by your intuition and reasoning—both, together—always. As for the word "Meraki", if it has never crossed your path before, I will extend to you the pleasure of this little serendipity. Feel free to share with me your impressions regarding the meaning.

Now, back to the course of the conversation, and the topic: patience.Tell me, have you the patience to read a book that, at first, has not picked your interest? If the answer is affirmative, you have that ember on you and it can become your flame. The wildfire of yours. If you do not have—yet—do not worry, because the patience is only directed to other sectors. You can be more patient than you think and not notice, because maybe your mind is orbiting more around the list involving everything that has the complete or partial absence of your patience, which is like a muscle that needs to be exercised daily and whose potential already exists. Everything you wish to be, but feel not to be yet, is a seed to blossom on your soul. A wolf cub to be nurtured by your hands. Every version of you starts on your mind, Fia. We may not be our thoughts, but our thoughts certainly shape who we are and, above all, who we become.

Thank you for the kindness on your words. I am glad that my writing is to the liking of your eyes. This is certainly a treasure coming from a "Linguistics child" like you. Above all, I appreciate you dedicating the time to let me know this detail. Time is one of the most inestimable gifts we can offer to someone. Using your voice to express yourself about something you enjoyed, on another person, can be a true watershed. And the fact that you do not keep such sincere and positive words to yourself on your inner Pandora's Box is admirable and envigorating. Oh, the weight of words. If every word uttered or written kissed humanity's skin like a tattoo, would they still say it? Would these words still be deliberately written by such reckless hands? Some people build a sand castle on the sand with one hand and destroy it with the other. That, of course, when they do not destroy someone else's castle. But not you, Fia, allow me the boldness to say. I have the feeling you try not to destroy castle of the others because you have already had yours destroyed by some waves, some hands, and sometimes those hands, those waves, were your own. Accept my sincere apologies if I have been inconvenient. I hope my words, every one of them, can reach you on the correct form. Without you feeling offended, disrespected or morally violated by them.

Before I get lost on a new "reverie". I remembered something with your positive comment about my writing. On one occasion I was compared to a robot precisely because of it. I was torn between two equally alluring response options: thanking the person for the "compliment" dressed on observation (I) or asking the person if they wanted me to prove my organic origins by reproducing a combination of letters and numbers of their choice, as requested by some websites (I). The comparison amused more than it could have offended. In fact, the art of not being offended by a conception constructed about me is something I have learned to master brushstroke by brushstroke on the canvas of life. Dedicating myself body and soul to making this an ever-increasing and eternal part of my personality. After all, the "forever is composed of nows." Furthermore, I appreciate Robotics. Frankly, being compared to a robot almost surpassed the once I was compared to Hagrid. The reason for this one was my height. It also came as a compliment. I consider Rubeus Hagrid a fascinating and complex character—I can even say that I identify with him on some aspects of his personality; but my cakes do not come with the paperweight functionality the same as his Rock cakes.

Anecdotes and jokes aside, respond on your own time this letter, at your own pace, when your heart desires, completely undressed of hurries and obligation. Under some interactions, storm clouds of demands hover. But, not ours. At least I will do everything on my power to make this possible for us.

Well, by this time, your eyeballs have probably fallen out of their orbits and are now resting on my words, shriveled with exhaustion. Let us hydrate them with good news. Shall we?

A message—literally—for your eyes: "Fia's eyeballs, hang on in there. Or as the Koreans say: Paiting! (Fighting!) We are almost over the at the end of our journey. For now."

As this letter is being finalized, I find myself at the mercy of the song 'The Snake And The Moon' by the Australian music duo from Melbourne, Dead Can Dance. I wonder what song you are listening to while writing to me. After all, Music is like a snake coiled around our hearts, sometimes slithering over the organ, like a lover's fingers on our bare skin; sometimes squeezing it, like a fist. Biting our minds; poisoning our hearts—healing our souls. Making us change our skin so that everything a song makes us feel and reflect can be properly accommodated on our being.

Sincerely,

Sorin.

Note: The name—or pet name—with which you introduce yourself to the world has a refreshing pronunciation and a intriguing aesthetically appealing. Have it Irish, Scottish or Italian origins? If I bet something on one of those origins above, tell me, what are the chances of succeeding on my endeavor?