Dear Francesca,

I felt I should write to you but I have trouble in figuring out what to say. Thoughts purl into sentences and I let them unravel instead of writing them down for you.

It's been ten days since my last letter. I picture calendar pages falling away, one by one, like old movies depict the passage of time.

I went to the library this evening to get more books. I go through boooks so quickly, getting lost in the lives of people who exist only on paper.

Franney, I can share my thoughts with you, but why don't I more often? You aren't judgemental and always listen. Perhaps it's that putting my thoughts into the concrete sticks and circles of letters make them more real, more difficult to ignore.

Yours,
Hannah Iona