Dear …, I am writing to you. I had sworn myself to silence, but the silence has begun to choke me. Forgive me if I am too expressive -yet am I not allowed, at least once, to speak plainly? It was you who once unlocked the prisoners of my mind, who gave them daylight, who taught them to venture and to dream. Now, without you, they wander in the fog, leaderless, longing for your care. Perhaps some new shadow has fallen across your heart. If so, still I do not repine, still I do not blame you; I have no power over your heart. Such, it seems, is my fate. You are a kind and a giving soul; you, of all, know how to requite-do you not?. Remember the man who writes to you -who needs warmth, who fights to master his own thoughts, who cannot do so alone. Your silence has been like an untimed death; yet even now, I believe you cannot willingly wound what once you awakened. If these words reach you, let them be not a reproach but a hand held out across the distance. Forgive me if I am bold in this,...