Dear Heart,
Muffin
Reading Thomas Hardy today, I found myself thinking of you. You talked about him a lot to me. Though I have always loved the classics, I had not experienced his world; always knew your taste is well.
Diving deep into a good literature with a cup of coffee beside me, I found you again between the pages. Every word you spoke resonates with me in a way it had never before, and my mind paints a clear sky of you. Feeling your presence beside me, and your smile upon me, my heart asks the heavens for nothing but your reality, for a day when we could sit together and discuss the variations of literature we so dearly adore.
I found Hardy's writing solaceful, slow-paced, immersive, expressive and beautifully atmospheric. I find a quietness within his words that does not rush the reader, but persuades the one to linger a little longer. Similar, I found in Henry David Thoreau's Walden, so smooth, slow, and filled with nature. Every page seems to have a weight of the countryside, the passing seasons, and unspoken emotions.
As I turned each page, I wondered what first drew you towards him. Was it his melancholy, his landscapes, or the way he could make silence speak louder than words? Perhaps, one day, you will tell me. Until then, I shall continue discovering the authors you quietly left behind for me, one page at a time.
Yours, until the last page,
~Zara M.
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