Dear Cyndy,

Joanna's belongings, arranged in the corner of
the large old bedroom in front of radiator and bookcase
are tangible proof that you really did come, that you
were here for 90 minutes, and that your visit was more
than wishful thinking, more than the delusion of a tired
old brain on the threshold of disintegration. I keep 
looking at the various packages and bundles, to make
sure even now, that there's no mistake.

Thank you very much for the effort. I infer that it
wasn't easy for you, and, after four years of correspondence,
somewhat familiar with the workings of your mind, I think I
understand why, - I think I also understand that there's much
about life, if not most, which is impermeable to logical
analysis, which must be accepted as it is, no questions asked, -
and even more important, no explanations offered.

The exchange of letters between us has served, - and I hope
will continue, as long as we have something to communicate
to each other, to serve - as a bridge on which we meet. This
week, for the first time, it occurred to me that a bridge,
considered usually to bind to each other the piers on which
it rests, may also serve to keep them apart, when as, for
example, even if only one of them were a pontoon, the bridge
might serve to stabilize the structure, and in the face of
whatever storms arose, keep the floating member not only from
drifting out to sea, but also from crashing onto the shore.

Please give my best to Ned.

Jochen