I brushed my hand over the fine, clean envelope, endowed with prints and marking, wondering how something so beautiful could be used as such a simple, meaningless piece of everyday life. It looked out of place in my hand, like it didn t belong; it was too good to be near me. It had a strange scent of perfume, adding to my curiosity of what it was doing here. I moved my hand across the top and put my finger through the seal and broke it open, like I always did with her letters. Inside there was a thin piece of paper, obviously a letter. All this refinement of the envelope and letter and all the strange miniscule details had always made me intrigued. I started reading the letter. It was from an 18 year old girl who lived in a small city in Japan. She told me about her family, her school and her life. It hurt to read this, falling in love through a letter, it felt wrong but yet deep down so right. I wanted to be with her, but yet she would keep me at only arms length, not wanting me to get to close.
I wish I could be across the sea, with her, being able to touch her, yet I know it would be wrong. I try to write down my feelings, but it s too hard in words, plainly on paper for me. I write it into music. I ve got her letter, she s got my song.