Monday, August 9, 2010

8/9/10










































"Dear Stranger,
    To be honest, I feel a bit nervous writing this. I keep wondering who you are, what you're like, your life. I am sitting on a stool at the kitchen bar-counter. Writing this letter. I have Dear Reader playing on my iPod, putting me in the perfect mood. Behind me are the bright yellow dining room walls, and even farther, my village. The tiniest town I have ever seen (don't blink or you'll miss it!), but I love it with all my heart. What about you? Where do you live? What do you look like? These thoughts keep going through my mind. I wonder how old you are? Do you have any hobbies, any loves?

    I know that we will never meet, and if we did (by some miracle), I would not know you were the person, the stranger, I once sat down and wrote to. And you would not know that I once sent an anonymous letter to you. But that doesn't matter, not in the slightest. All that matters is that we connected. When my pen hit this paper, and when your hand touched the envelope, we made a connection. Even though we may life in different parts of the country (the world!), we have touched the other's life. In ten, twenty, even fifty years, neither of us may remember. But that does not matter,  because this connection will last. It may be strongest now, in this moment, but perhaps later in our lives, we will find ourselves thinking of each other. I pray that we do.

    Thank you so much for unknowingly touching my life. And thank you for allowing me into yours.

    I love you.

    -Just another face."


Be a stranger. 

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