Timshel Territory

Dear Juliet

Just in case, I'd better mention I put a plan together. I don't know if it'll work, but it exists and I'll try to check it.

That's all I'll say. I'm on Timshel Territory once again and it's your life.

Okay, I had my last ultrasound today and my last appointment at New Cross is on 20th October. I might go back to London last week of September and I might also have to go to Seattle next April.

Now, a helpful thought.

"In sixty years I've left a lot of tracks," Steinbeck said in 1962.

And so, I suppose, has Dear Miss Landau.

The thing is, I don't keep quiet about Seattle because I'm trying to be silly or secret or juvenile or clever. I keep quiet about it because I was asked to do so, and because it is a sacred obligation.

In fact, it's in the same vein as an informal absolution. A bit like this.

There could have been, there could still be, a Dear Miss Landau II, or even III. There are a lot of tracks, or threads, and not all have been recorded.

But the permissions to do so lie with others, and I'm profoundly at ease with that.

Timshel indeed. You both may choose.

Apart from seeing you safely delivered from harm, I guess I've got one ambition left. To be photographed with both of you, once you're both safe, in some mild-mannered midwestern future high upon the sunlit city on the hill.

Love,

James