Dear Nikola,

Just now I had, as occurs so often, fallen asleep at the computer; and I awoke startled by the thought that I had not had a message from you for several days. I have thought of you often, and on each occasion concluded with the thought that I must write to you, and until now, I let all my intentions lapse into distractions.

I've put much effort into reading. On the Internet I found a site, archive.org, which acts like a library and lends books in many languages, including German. I entertain a growing conviction that all "philosophy" is poetry, requires to be read as such, and is so tightly bound to the language that it is irreparably distorted by translation. It is a conviction which hardens the isolation in which I live and think.

It's been sixty years, since I first tries to articulate a coherent theory: Ethical and esthetic consciousness are sources of doubt about the interpreted world. I found no takers in 1960, and I expect no takers in 2020. I now try to explore what, if anything, I have learned in the two generations (30 years each) that have since elapsed.

My initial thought is that consciousness is inherently unitary, and that the attempt to distinguish an ethical from an esthetic consciousness is unacceptable rhetoric or trickery. The notion that there should be an "interpreted" world, presumably distinct from a natural, deus sive natura, world, entails problems as well as possibilities.

Enough said, or more accurately, enough written. I wish very fervently that you are well.

EJM