Dear You

The curious crossing of the greylag goose...

January 10, 1957

Dear you,

Awoken early. The sound of large feet padding about on balcony below my rooms overlooking watery expanse upon watery expanse. Venice, expect water. Expect many things. But, should you be lucky, as I was, peep out from behind curtain of a morning and you may see the curious crossing of the greylag goose by gondola. Perched as though anxious not to topple watercraft steered by human aid, it looks most inelegant yet charming. A sight to behold! A sight most magical to start day! Where they were bound, I’ve no idea. Dozing back to sleep, I fancied the Swiss Alps.

Yours in feathers and webbing,
X

[Sunday 23rd June, 2013: This particular postcard played its paper-and-ink part in the exhibition, Picture This: Postcards and Letters Beyond Text, University of Sussex (UK).]

Pleasant surprise upon pleasant surprise...

July 9th

Dear you,

Looking in places many overlooked, I am rewarded for my efforts by pleasant surprise upon pleasant surprise. The things that get thrown away, the things discarded… why, you’d be amazed at what I find between the rocks amidst the flotsam and jetsam of humanity. A new toaster! A necklace of pearls with broken clasp! A pair of torn ladies hose!

Yours in reclaimed gumboots and merriment,
X

It seems silly, but I couldn’t fathom a way in...

March 11
 
(Sometime 1956)
 
Dear you,
 
It seems silly, but I couldn’t fathom a way in to the adjoining [awkwardly smudged by the writer to cover own misspelling] room, and, as no one was about in the Grand Gallery, I stood awkwardly until I deemed appropriate time had passed for me to leave the way I came. I bluffed my way through the conversation with door attendants, agreeing that yes, they really were fine examples of 16th century tapestries.
 
Yours with a mask worn to hide my tourist shame,
X

Suppressing a giggle with great difficulty...

March 10
 
(Sometime 1956)
 
Dear you,
 
Upon the shoulders of my companion, I was able to see the Foresth [misspelt on reverse by writer, perhaps owing to the letter t being enjoyable to strike through] mosaic decorations to better effect. The Golden Hall lit up, we saw, too, our reflected selves on the polished floor beneath our feet, all fuzzy about the edges, simplified and dull, like that of shadow puppets rather than a mirror. [Writer here uses the word ‘simplified’ in the sense of an outline hard to make out ergo the shadow play.] Our laughter rang out, bounced off the walls, and the attendants were none too pleased. Stockholm’s City Hall does not endorse tomfoolery.
 
Yours, suppressing a giggle with great difficulty,
X

I dined like a mayor of the people...

Dear you,
 
Labouring under the misapprehension that Swedes were a tall people and built their buildings thusly, I made my way to Stockholm’s Blue Hall. Seems along with sketchy details of Malayan tapir that I have been mislead once more. City Hall positively diminutive. That said, council spread was generous to a fault and I dined like a mayor of the people.
 
Yours in cramped nourishment,
X

Remembering your crème caramel and dreaming of home...

11th January, 1962

Dear you,
 
Perhaps it is not a case of not having sea legs, but have peculiar sensation travelling aboard this ocean craft. Have distinct impression I am being watched, tailed, shadowed. Of course, could all be in my head. It’s a watery pool up there between my ears, and occupies my thoughts this dread of the sea. Longing for land and easing anxiety, muffling the birds in my chest, as it were, with a little light deck grazing. Food long has been my pacifier.
 
Remembering your crème caramel and dreaming of home,
X

The waters were kept orderly by a large golden bear...

1922
 
Dear you,
 
I’d heard it said that the waters were kept orderly by a large golden bear, but then one does hear such fantastical things abroad.
 
It’s all true, my dear, all true.
 
Blown from port,
X

I really am at great liberty to do as I please...

Dear you,

Time and time again, nature proves the best and only camouflage here at Japan’s Kawaji Spa. Not that I need make use of it. The patrons with their eye masks in place and bodies slathered in creams to re-hydrate, rewind and revive don’t notice me as I pad about the facilities. In their hydro baths with their earplugs shoved into their ears, I really am at great liberty to do as I please. But too much freedom, it is never a good thing and now I grow tired of the place and all I am allowed.

Yours longing to be caught,
X