Dear Anonymous,
I don't know who you are, and you don't know who I am. You could have found this letter anywhere, placed carefully in your mailbox, nailed to a tree, discarded in a trash can. But my dear Anonymous, These are written to anyone who reads them.
These letters are addressed to the people who care for the little things in life, addressed to to the spring sky and addressed to the wilted flowers. Mailed from a frozen pond, from a dying sunset.
Dear Anonymous, These are for you, everything you read is special, interpreted by you in a way no one else can mirror. You are unique to me.
My dear friend Anonymous, It's a pleasure to meet you.
You can may refer to me as your brother, your best friend, a character in a tv show, or even some name you have an unexplainable attraction too. As I've said, these are for you, and you specifically.
Until next time,
Anonymous.
