Dear Tre L. Loadholt I remember that I wrote it on the tube, using my green notebook on the way to work. I thought about how oblivious all the passersby were to my train of thoughts and feelings. Of course they were oblivious, they couldn’t know what I feel, they were strangers. I don’t know, but I find this peculiar, that all that separates us from a stranger is a hello or a handshake, yet most of the time, we just keep on riding our trains in silence. You always lift me up so kindly, almost like a bird that you’re afraid of so much. Thank you.