A channel of pure thought
I spent the last summer away from home. The completion of the term sent me down and back up again through the country, living, for various reasons, with 11 different host families, nights beneath 11 alien roofs. During those hot and sunny months, I became acutely aware of my distance from places and people familiar. This awareness was not a shock or a burden, but an amazement at the distances to which I was now connected by virtue of the presence of my friends and acquaintances. To be honest, I liked the feeling that accompanied the knowledge that a zip code or the jurisdiction of a city no longer defined my world. Perhaps, then, my interest in composing and mailing enveloped letters was motivated by a desire to indulge this impression of worldliness, a desire to not choose the instant gratification of emailed conversation, a desire to comprehend the distances of the people to whom I was attached, distances measured in postage marks and days between my writing and the delivery of the response.






