Wednesday, April 19, 2017
On a visit to my childhood friend, Olivia, she gave me a small stack of letters. They were my sporadic correspondence to her from when I was around eleven years old to fifteen or sixteen. I stopped writing when life became too tumultuous for me to explain. Here are two of them – a glimpse into who I was (in private, girlish conversation) and a friendship that has remained. Click each letter for a larger version.