Also on these boards
❧ lettres et cartes postales ❧
Esther finds old letters: "Who had they been sent to? A child or a servant, perhaps, in the days when the house was someone's home and not yet a guest house. And why was the sixth one different and unopened? She picked up the top envelope. The address was smudged and difficult to read and the name at the top was partly obscured by brown water stains."
I wanted a perfect ending. Now I have learned, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what is going to happen next. It is a Delicious Ambiguity