Dear Mr. Erickson,
Thank you for taking the time and effort to post your listing for
Vintage WWII love letters 1945-1946 on eBay.
Before I make an offer, I just have a few questions— you described them as family heirlooms,
so I hope you might have some answers.
First, did the couple stay together in the end?
That is to say, are the letters worth anything, because if love wasn’t the end result
I’m not sure they’re worth quite as much.
The love feels like it has less of a point when you know it doesn’t turn out real in the end.
Then again, maybe they’re worth their weight in tragedy
because it feels sort of like reading a play where you know the characters die in the end
and you’re watching it all play out wishing you could change it.
It’s like Shakespeare, only worth more because these people were made of as much as us.
Mr. Erickson, do you think there’s value in tragedy? You must, or you wouldn’t be selling the letters for $118.45.
Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself, I haven’t even received a definitive answer yet.
Second question: did the couple have anything to do with the war?
I only ask because it’s nice to know the background,
because there’s something to love with the audacity to hold its ground
in the face of violent warfare. Artists call it chiaroscuro,
the contrast and treatment of light in paintings, offset against the dark.
Have you ever turned on a weak lamp in the pitch black, Mr. Erickson? It feels like the brightest thing on Earth.
It makes you think that the sun would pale in comparison to the ten-year-old faded fluorescent bulb.
They’ve written a lot of songs about it, about how we only see how bright things can be with they’re in the dark,
and I guess this is just my long-winded way of figuring out how bright their love burns.
Last question, I promise: why are you selling the letters?
I’m sorry if that seems blunt or rude, and asking’s certainly
not an intelligent move on my part, considering I’d quite like to purchase these letters
and it’s not in my favour for you to reconsider,
but there’s part of me that desperately needs to know.
It’s just that I have a hard time imagining someone finding that much love piled in their attic
and thinking of profit over the humanity of it all.
Do you ever consider how long we’ve been full of love, Mr. Erickson?
Not you specifically, that is, but people in general.
We’ve been overflowing with love since time immemorial and you’ve got a piece of that in your hands
and I guess I can’t really understand how you can bring yourself to sell it.
I really am sorry for the rambling, Mr. Erickson, I don’t mean to send you into a crisis of self or priority,
maybe just to remind you that you and I and everyone everywhere mirrors the live of those letters,
and I’d rather you not sell them if they could remind you of the love inside you.
All that being said, I eagerly await your response. If you have any issues with
anything inquired here, please don’t hesitate to contact me at the above address.
Until our next correspondence, I remain,
Yours in humanity,