The Sorrows of Young Werther: May 12.
I've still got those paintings that you did for my birthday way back in the fall.
I’ve reread my last e-mail to you which probably had me (a city kid) high on fresh oxygen & flowers & now I’m honestly not sure whether someone messed with my head that I think of this tiny town as actual paradise. (But maybe it is??)
In front of the house is a fountain. Not a big one that would attract tourists in any way, but is still so charming to me that I spend much of my time near it. My aunt’s house is on top of a small hill, and you have to skid down a gentle slope to get to an arch. Another few steps down, and you see the fountain and its little pond, surprisingly clean and okay for drinking. The fountain is shadowed by a narrow wall and tall trees which give the place a little chill. All of that is so pleasant that I find mself coming here everyday for at least an hour.
In the evenings, a group of girls comes from town, throws their bikes into the tall grass, and dips their feet into the chilly water, laughing. Maybe very long ago, their grandmothers made that trip to fetch some drinking water for their families, but all that’s left is the tradition to hang out in this spot. I can’t unsee it though, and I like to imagine long-dead ancestors forming friendships and whispering secrets to each other by this fountain. Maybe those friendships are still guarding our fountains and streams as benevolent spirits. People who’ve never thought about that should really try sitting near water after a stressful & hot summer day. I hope we’ll do that together soon.
Love, W.