Once upon a time in a kingdom far away from here, in a time when Cephalopodum Hideosum, a deadly virus created by Harry Potter in a moment of muddled spell-casting, ravaged cities across the land, Fermina met a boy at breakfast with enchantingly long eyelashes.
They parted ways, as all vagabonds inevitably do, but not before engaging in a brief affair that left Fermina enlivened and left the boy unapologetically infatuated. He couldn’t contain his passion, and so decided to engage Fermina in a very unexpected exchange of handwritten letters.
Here we make public the content of those letters in as much detail that has been granted by Fermina in the wake of great tragedy: the boy, Florentino, has since vanished into the jungles of the Third Kingdom, another victim fallen to the Cephalopodum epidemic. We recall his words with unbridled grief and sadness…
Hey embodied sweetness!
Today, I’ll write about writing. I’ll write to you because these days with you have left me somehow empty, contrasts are hard to process.
I’ve always found that writing is a relief, making it a habit since I was 15 with letters, blogs, newspapers and I sometimes wonder why I have not followed this path. Writing gives you all the time to find the right words.
Now the big question is going to be why am I writing? What do I want to share? I just hate to be like the others so I’ll have to find my singularity. I thank my anarchist of a father for this educational present that makes my life both incredible and torturous, like most human lives I guess. How is your life by the way? How do you make your decisions? I want to know so much more about you, who you are…
I thank my anarchist of a father for this educational present that makes my life both incredible and torturous, like most human lives I guess.
So many topics I could talk about with the rest of the world, and even more with you. Where should I start? I guess any point can be a starting point. A breakfast in Valentina is definitely a romantic story to tell.
Take care of yourself, write back to me, tell me how you became who you are. I hope this letter will temporarily take out the frustration of not having you around so I can focus on other things…
Lots of cuddling,
Reading you is like being an inch away from you and it melts my brain to know that you’re 7600 miles away from me…
My father was born in The Second Kingdom in 1948 under the Queen Riding Hood regime. My grandfather was a general of the armies and would put a lot of pressure on my father to “do what was normal”. But he fought back, even though he was young. He became an artist as his gut urged him to and when the dictatorship collapsed, he was one of the head figures of the cultural liberation of the kingdom led by Gretl the Great, the so-called “Gingerbread March”. He exhibited in the Troll Kingdom, House of Snow White, the Land of Oz and the cash started flowing.
His art gallery is located near Cinderella’s castle which made this wonderful city the center of his business (although using the word business to talk about my father must be some sort of heresy). He used to have an apartment there…
Mermaid Island is a natural and cultural gem he discovered when my grandfather was working there. (Some of the locals still remember “General Ariza”). He was loaded when he met my mother and they bought the apartment she now lives in (and where I spent most of my own life), a house and a big property for my father to work. It’s kinda magic because it’s up in the mountain, far away from everything (which is a problem when you don’t have a motorbike), you can scream as loud as you want without disturbing anyone. Maybe I can show you all of this one of these days.
Mermaid Island is where my heart belongs. It’s where I lived when my parents were together, where I went to kindergarten and met my best friend, Gerard (he’s like a brother to me), where I spent all of my summers biking around from 6 to 18 years old…I was tired of going there because it ended up being always the same, but now that I’ve traveled, now that I know how marvelous it is compared to many other places, I really want to go back there.
I’m not sure whether I’m romantic or not, I guess you’ll see that by yourself.
Leaving for a few days on a kayak trip now, have a good time and tell me about your parents and your favorite place.
All over your skin,
Fermina felt like she had stepped into a seriously wonky fairytale. Incredulous yet flattered, she took delight in opening his letters and always responded to them sincerely. Still, she felt her responses lacked a certain poetic touch that Florentino seemed to capture quite effortlessly…
(To be continued…)