It's me, your boy, writing to say hello, and to add that I love you and that all is well, despite these troubled and difficult times of terrorism, facism, starvationism, and me working for weeks at a time in the Kimberleys...ism.
All is not lost in the Kimberleys though, my gorgeous one. It is my bold and outrageous intention to fill this 100-page Spicers Olympic Carbon Book "with extra carbon" (it says that on the cover, which I, for some reason, found to be quite hilarious) with letters to all of my lovers (of which there is but one*), relatives and friends alike, so that they may benefit spiritually from my ye-olde-fashionede letters, and that I may benefit financially and egotistically by selling the book's contents for many millions of dollars, if and when I become famous. What say you of my plan? Dare you dismiss it as impossible?
Regardless of your stance, it should hearten you to know that you are No. 1 in my book, quite literally and probably even "with a bullet"...
*Maybe two, counting Stuart, who often refers to me, and me to him, as "lover".
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