{Have I stood still all this time?, postcard collage.}
March 25th, 1905
Dear you,
In what must seem the longest time, I have been absent from your letterbox. Seems I lost track of the time here in Kilbarchan, Scotland and have only recently found way back to the familiar everyday rhythm, the humdrum of normality. Can it really be four months since I last wrote you? I am aghast!
Needless to say, searching for rock minerals of extreme rarity and beauty has been somewhat aging; my muscles aren’t what they once were in the summer years of my life.
Yours with muscular aches and crooked fingers,
X
{I can almost touch it, postcard collage.}
March 28th, 1905
Dear you,
At first I did not see it there upon horizon, one giant rock rearing up before me, doing level best to blend in. But saw it I did when the sun shone bright above it and I marvelled at how I could have been so blind as to overlook it in the first place.
Tomorrow I plan, muscles dependent, to scale it and explore the wispy silken moss that covers its handsome surface. The mild climate of Bellagio suits me well, and from the top I shall sit and admire the view of Lago di Como.
Quivering in anticipation,
X
{The sixteenth and seventeenth postcard in this sporadic series of correspondence received in original state from dear Hil.}
