Aurelio,
I meant to send a letter last month, but I can’t remember an idle moment since August. I called in my two weeks the month before, and I hadn’t stopped since. I went somewhere, did something. If I couldn’t see a person, I finished feature length novels instead. These were my farewells. Farewell to fullest Summers, farewell to South Carolina prodigals. The time is coming where getting old friends together is a logistical improbability (an understatement) and this Summer was the time to accept that reality.
How many more times will I see you or any of my old friends before I die? This came to me when I was reading Anna Karenina on my Monday night shift at the Waffle House. The chapter goes like this. Ever restless with thoughts of industry, a man meets his brother racked with consumption and thoughts of death attack him in the witching hours. When Levin waves his brother farewell, he suspects this is the last time he would see Nikolai. What can that industrious man do? Life got i…
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