Epistolarian

If I had to give a few words to define me, epistolarian would be in the list. Letters writer lover.

Old letters are as useful as old diaries. You can find back some old ideas you forgot, you can understand where you were – therefore where you are now, etc.

A real human being never trashes informations. The past stays in the past, and it’s interesting to have maps – for example : to find new paths.

So when an epistolarian meets another epistolarian it’s blissful. It can appear in the guise of twenty pages of “this is what happened” or one email of “kind but precise questions” or just like a slow paced tennis conversation, games and smiles, what ifs and helping hands, curiosity and musics or books discoveries.

Like in tennis, it’s like having a respectful opponent who sends back the ball to challenge you. Oh OK it’s more like a dance…

It’s like a secret. It’s slow. It’s a common silence too. Written words.

Good epistolarians are rare. They have to love words, ideas, telling stories, sharing, but also the process of elaborating. And they have to like the pace of it, determined by the other responses too. It’s like a dance, I agree. A dance of spirits.

 

Sometimes we MEET someone with whom we shared letters for years. The person is likely to be very different from the Epistolarian Friend you played with before. It happened to me (almost 30 years ago). It was intense, interesting, very different, and it… supplied a great new blood to our future letters!

Epistolarians know something : No “in real life” meeting can change the person you danced with with letters. It’s the last phrase of this notebook page : “Rien ne peut changer ce que vous êtes à mes yeux” : “Nothing can change who you are in my eyes”.

 

Thanks for reading! Have a nice day!

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Reading Kundera in a crowded football stadium

I had a friend who was a teacher. She was a book lover, a quiet person you could meet in an art gallery or in a library.

She was in love with a guy who loved soccer. She was intrigued and decided to go watch a match.

I suggest you go on YouTube to 4’00” and listen to it loud…

She went there with a book, a Kundera book. She was not interested in the game, but in the festive atmosphere. 

At one moment, the whole stadium stood up (because of a point, of course). Screams! The guy next to her, then, excited and yelling, said to the reading lady : “Sorryyyyy”.

She smiled.

Listened.

Kept reading…

 

Have a nice day!

Bollaert is the RC Lens Stadium, North of France. Well…