Yule fever

On behalf of Judy Garland's Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.

Sílvia,

I’ve been feeling rather obnoxious lately. Invariantly, all of a sudden, it seems like everything around me is extremely hollow, vague and dull. I don’t think I will be able to endure this for much longer. Can’t find comfort, can’t find any solace, can’t find peace of soul. I can’t even sleep, and oh my!, how I crave for a nice sleeping of the heavens... My whole life is a merry-go-round over nothing, over absolute emptiness. Lately I haven’t even been allowed to dream...

I was star gazing just a few moments ago, and you know, it still amazes me to the very bottom of my heart how infinitely supreme the universe is. How it crushes you in the contempt of its greatness. I mean you couldn’t possibly feel any more insignificant when compared to it. Then suddenly out of nothing a meteor shower commenced. Though it not lasted long, it was still enough to make my moribund soul feel a bit of warmth. And then I found myself making a wish while gazing at one of the falling stars. I wished for you.

And it was so genuine, so pure, even childish, that I felt touched by my very own feelings! Ridiculous I agree, almost pedantic. Mostly pathetic, yes. And yet it was strange and insightful. Strange because, as far as I can remember that moment, I think I actually felt sorry about my own sadness. And for one fellow to feel sorry about his own melancholy I call that strange to say the least. And insightful for that moment made it all narrow and perfectly clear. My fever is for thee that it burns, my dear.

Orion have turned about fifteen degrees now... The pole star is still staring at me fixedly, like a madman. Condensation vaporizes up on the pace of my breathing. The arctic chill keeps devouring my ears and my nose. Everything is as deadly still as before. My forehead flaming as kerosene in the depths of hell. And the only momentary lapse of reason within this circus of nonsense was to remember you and wish for having you right on that moment right next to me, to give you my hand while I was looking into the sky as a little boy. And that I dare to say I would call it affection to start with...

Merry Christmas and let the Yuletide spirits be with you.
Yours truly,


Diogo

To everyone of you without exception, I wish a Merry and Holy Christmas. Let our spirits freely rejoice in queer manners. Let us feel the warmth of our hearts touching each other. Thou shalt not forget thy honest friends.

From Thomar with Love