Summer greetings, I am envious of your time with the ocean that loves you, despite your 'churlish impatience and cursing in cathedrals'. There are two things in life I am certain of: God forgives whatever we cannot forgive and the ocean eventually washes away the flotsam and jetsam, the annoying seaweed wrapped around ankles, whatever bruises both physical and mental eventually are healed, carried off by the tides. You just need to stand in the water.
I would have written a sealed letter, but don't know your exact whereabouts, so I hope this message will suffice. I cringe from giving unasked-for-advice, but I too, have been uncomfortable in two places at once. You have been more than kind to a random stranger, for which I am more than grateful.
In my mind, you wish you were taller; your hair is unruly, streaked white; your eyes are never the same color, slipping from grey to green to brown, behind glasses when you remember to wear them. You travel well, packing only essentials, yet this bothers you.
In my mind, you are left-handed. When writing, by this ocean of yours, the paper is high quality, most likely lined, or if unlined, you might think of using a ruler, then erasing light pencil lines. I am certain you write the date, although you might feel like time is endless, boundless there. If I could have mailed a manual typewriter, I wonder if that might be helpful.
Please excuse my assumptions, but the third thing in life I am certain of is when I sense someone needs an encouraging word (or a kick in the butt); I cannot remain silent, even at the possible loss of connection, however important that is.
Best wishes, M
Brevity Quest 2016 293