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Love letters...

It's my ambition to write such delightful documents of sober and subtle romance that generations to come will thrill at the whispers of nuance in every word.

Instead, I have a nearly one-sided e-mail exchange with a cantankerous best friend, the sort of best friend who scowls and glowers and forgets where the "reply" button is located and doesn't often call back.

I think I'll live.

Romance is yet alive in my soul, despite the fact that my best friend is stiff and uncomfortable with expressions of tender emotion from me, and further despite the fact that he shares his e-mail address with his parents.
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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