every warrior hopes a good death will find him

 

dear tristan
it has been months now and still no word. i know you're alive. we had a tattered parcel from new guinea. it was covered with strange writing. lnside was a native bracelet. meant for me, i presume... perhaps not.
do you still care to know what is happening here?
cattle prices continue to fall. the winter seems never ending. why don't you write?
are you never coming back, and afraid to tell me?
alfred continues to do well. his business has expanded to chicago and washington. he wants to send isabel ii to school, but she won 't leave. i think she, too, is waiting for you.
i have nowhere to send this letter and i have no reason to believe you wish to receive it. i write it only for myself. i'll hide it away with all the other things left undone between us.

[some people hear their own inner voices with great cleanness.
and they live by what they hear.
such people become crazy, or they become legends...

legends of the fall]