This is the twentieth of 87 letters exchanged during World War II between Nicholas Salvatore and Elizabeth Galloway.
For more see Nicholas and Elizabeth.
Arizona, February 14, 1944
The ink dances on the page with the grace of the author. The characters live in the act of creation, the desire of creation is a sortie against the shadows creeping from the void. The clarity, the surety aims for a target that eludes those who shoot for it.
Pieces come together to create a new whole
With any sense of light the day can proceed.
A heart that cannot be broken ceases to be a heart.
It is this ever present malleable quality which allows for love. The strength of the machine renders it nothing more than a particular place, to wear out.
Simple symmetry is not needed to create a whole.
It can exist in any shape, and any quantity; it’s quality never ceasing. (It is time).
That which can be fixed must be broken to realize their full potential. The sleek slide of a bow over strings slows the heart rate and expands infinitely. The fibers must be woven tightly enough to hold, but with enough care to stretch with the application of force.
That which is new is already old. That which is born is already sentenced to death. The beginning was done without input, and the end is already determined.
All that exists between is ours, is endless, timeless.
If they are made rich enough by chosen actions, the end does not matter. It can never truly come.
Next letter – February 15, 1944