[Letters: louis/daniel]
[Louis was hoping that Daniel's reaction to the stationary, or lack thereof, would help to date him a bit better. It's something, anyway. He swaps it for some creamy thick stock bought fair and square from the art store down the way. ]
Dear Daniel,
Something? You're a little hard on yourself there, I think. I am more tired of the dark myself, this year. Is it because I'm getting older, or because the thing inside me is so fond of sunlight? Either way, I feel tired, and the days grow longer much too slowly.
The thing will never hurt you without my permission, which I would never give. It lives by very old rules. It feels the need to be a benefit to me in some way, out of necessity and for the sake of etiquette. We may not like one another, but neither does it want to start a fight with me. I think it knows it would come out the loser, whatever happens to me in the process. So it will not touch you. It wants to be my friend. It hopes I will let it gather new followers and build its fresh holy land on some godforsaken spot, like the mormons did. I think it feels it will wear me down, eventually. Many men would like to be a god.
Are you well? Are you eating? Are you looking after yourself?