postcard: castor & pollux.
[The Return, with the usual note, and another one of the drawings colored in]
Pollux,
Keep it up my friend. I've never considered myself one to leave a legacy, but I'll take this one. As for why they're always out the door? Life's always on its way out the door. Separation is unavoidable unless happenstance says otherwise, but that doesn't mean the relationship itself always is. Mine was because we probably weren't ever right for each other, but we got together young and never looked at that until it was too late. At least that's how I see it now.
You open at your own pace. I'll still be here to write you letters then too. The comparison about ice cream's the best one I've got for love though, and as for me and the big folks upstairs? I have my moments. I'm not going to say that I don't have faith or believe, that would be pretty impossible for me to say. I used to think I had an idea, but I don't know in exactly what now. God? The flying Spaghetti monster? I'm not the type to hedge bets and give lip service, but I'll speak my piece to any of the gods and goddesses I think the time calls for it.
We're always a work in progress Pollux and, whatever it is you decide you do want in life? I hope you find it.
Hm. That's a tough one. I honestly can't say I've ever encountered it. I've met some real human trash in my time, but everyone's got a story and I'm not going to shut a door on someone when leaving it open might be able to help someday. That's just my way.
Please tell me you're just colorfully exaggerating about the town? I've done enough I didn't think I could do in one lifetime.
As for cooking? Practice makes perfect. If you want, I'll write you up an easy recipe in the next letter? Pizza and ice cream is one of the best combinations there is though. Just make sure you're varying up the toppings. And you're right about the dogs. I'm a Lab or Setter kind of person.
You don't think your small, and you're right. It's bad when it comes for the kids. But if not death, what are you looking over your shoulder for?
Yours, Castor
P.S. I doubt that very much. It takes a lot to shock me. P.P.S. More whiskey for me then. And I'd rather keep writing letters. Tell me about one of your favorite days in your next letter.