Description
I moved. During the pandemic. The letters I write are real. So are the people they are addressed to. You and I are connected by less than six degrees; they could be for someone you know. But I'm sending them home in an untraditional way. I want the recipient to receive the gift of unfolding in a story. That can't happen if it's known, in advance, who the letter is addressed to and who author is. I switch a few details around to hide my identity, but I leave clues all throughout. It's easy to decipher. I'm not a writer. I'm just a teacher. I don't know what I'm doing. But may I add one thing? I teach high school. I know a bit about how things spread. I also understand, on a fundamental level, the power of connectivity. You should read the letters. Suspend disbelief. If you experience a nagging sensation, an unknown familiarity, the quickening of the heart: pay attention. We're more closely linked than you think. You might recognize me, someone you know, or better yet, yourself in one of these.
1. Dear Reader, Read First
