Home Letters Imaginary Love. 1.5

Imaginary Love. 1.5

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Most beloved,

I was so happy that the last letter gave you so much joy. You can not imagine how glad I was to get your response. Though precise, I read your words over and over again with a joyous smile, like I always do, not necessarily because there was anything particularly agreeable in my mind – the joyous smile was evoked by your words and the description they made of the events your day had availed.

As I write this, the energies of my mind are, thanks to an eventful day, destroyed. It would be the finest thing in the world to strengthen them with a much needed nap, but I will instead derive comfort from writing to you.

Like I told you, the morning is the only proper time to write to a beautiful girl
whom I love so much; for at night, when the lonely day has closed, then believe me, my passion gets entirely the sway, and I would not find the perfect words to make you smile, again, lest you should think of me either too unhappy or perhaps a little mad. I still will.

My beloved, I have a confession. For some years, I have refused to follow a particular religion, but a recent realisation has revealed to me a fact that I am now sure of; that creativity is somehow linked in the notion of God. Thus, these words which I share with you, and other blessings which I am grateful and indebted to Him for, and are lucky to be counting would not be possible even with the efforts of my weak human body.

The same God has made me realise that not only will I have enough in you, but I will have much more. You are, apart from the redemption Jesus offers, God’s richest, most inconceivable gift to me, one that I will never be able to fathom or to exhaust.

The very thought of having a person of your kind (I will avoid going into detail, for we do not want to make each other vain) in my poor life right now strengthens me; it is an incentive to live fully and purely – remember the decision to do away with intoxicants?

However, I do not want to resort to the best and never-failing method for conquering a woman’s heart, a method that has never let anyone down, and that is equally effective with every female without exception. It is a well-known method – flattery.
There is nothing harder in the whole world than frankness, and there is nothing easier than flattery. If there is only one hundredth part of a note of falsehood in your frankness, at once a discord is created, followed immediately by a row.
If, on the other hand, everything to the last note is false in flattery, it is still pleasant, and is listened to not without satisfaction; with a coarse sort of satisfaction, maybe, but with satisfaction still.

No, I do not intend to utilise the latter. We will enjoy taking baby steps into a sphere that you and I are currently not even certain about. And no, I am never scared of the unknown.
We will keep corresponding about things that we like, and make us who we are. It is splendid that we can tell each other everything (I guess) – the deep, the beautiful, and the marvelous, but also the difficult and sad things. And we can be grateful there are so few sad things to tell each other, and so many joyful ones.

From that correspondence, I have been lucky to learn what you prefer to devour; the empathy generating L.S documented by TV, your sweet little tooth, your dislike for ebitakuri, and liking for muhogo, your emphatic love for good African talent on the platform that is TPF, the programme which in the first and only season I have watched made me appreciate African music more when in its first season, a cornrowed Tanzanian representative who joked that his belly was as big as the Kilimanjaro mountain performed the legendary song Sondela. Do you, by any chance, remember him?

And also, it is only fair to you that I settle your curiousity. It is a sin to keep a lady waiting or in the dark. It is pearls that I went shopping for. There is an awesome story behind them, one which I will save you for the moment.

There are so many things which keep occuring to me that we must and will talk over when their time arrives. I find that what we have shared so far is very little by comparison. I want always to tell you everything, everything that I am thinking about, learning, and experiencing.

I can tell you about A.G, a good friend of mine from the other post, “I love it when you talk in your mother tongue”. She asked me who the most gracious one is. I was inclined to tell her about us (naturally only as much as can be told). It was rather difficult to be open and still remain quiet about you and I. She was very curious.
She was especially happy that I thought about you a lot. She said it is a good thing, and that every womyn (her spelling) deserves that.
In fact, she proceeded to check out your profile, and held that you are pretty – which is, to me, an acknowledgement of a woman’s worth when she is admired by other members of the fairer sex – and said she has probably spoken to you before.

Sunshine be on you all possible hours till we meet again. By the by, this may be sooner than you may possibly imagine.

Your Twino.

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