Dear You

I thought I saw you there...

Dear you,

I thought I saw you there. In Hastings by the sea. Upon closer inspection, I see that I was wrong. It was a trick played upon me by my own eyes. Not you at all but a giant wave crashing against the ledge.

Kisses from this lone and befuddled snowshoe hare,
X

With a hispid hare for company, I am not lonely...

Dear you,

Now in Venezia, as no doubt you can see. With a hispid hare for company, I am not lonely. Together, we feel as though we have stepped into Daphne du Maurier’s short story The Birds. We’d been warned, of course, but still, that’s not quite the same as experiencing it for one’s own self. Can’t ever be, can it.

Hat wear in great demand here, especially for those who like to arrive at their destination unsoiled.

Send goggles, please do,
X

Yours in cipher to unscramble...

Dear you,

It was the forest spiny pocket mouse that first alerted me to it, the giant golden communication device in Tangier. Stand, speak, deliver. (Or, stand, squeak, deliver as said rodent explained to me.) This device, this large contraption, is what I have been using to talk to you. Its public positioning in a busy street keeps one polite or beholden to code, especially for the communicating of love odes, but it will have to do.

Yours in cipher to unscramble,
X