"Why do I not write to you?" You lay claim to learning, and ask such a question. You should have guessed that I am well -- that is to say -- in a word, I have made an acquaintance who has won my heart: I have -- I know not.
Well, I am the one writing, and the one I am writing to is the acquaintance I have made. Live can be a perpetual stream of variations, more vivid than any literature could ever imagine.
The thing is, of course, that my acquaintance hasn't stayed unnoticed by the folks surrounding me. That is to say, since it had such an effect on me. And I, much to my regret, can't help being readable like a book, even the slightest change of mind is being noticed. Not to mention the impact this extraordinary mail pal has on me.
And even though my answers to the many, many questions being asked were more than cautious - we only whish we had the respectful and reserved people around us that Werther associated with - I was pinned down with a number of lively expressed remarks by those concerned friends:
- Don't answer straight away. That's so desperate. You're really clueless. You have to take a systematic approach.
- A mail pal? All of a sudden? Since when? Hand over an email address so that I can check out first hand if that mail pal is kosher.
- Watch out not to fall for a fantasy. You don't even know who is writing, might be some bloodthirsty lunatic.
- You better don't tell more than you're told. Keep up the balance! May the force be with you.
- Go and get over there.
Now how should I take advice from such a spectrum? I know. I need new friends.