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Ezzie Brown

Esmeralda Rosalind Brown hates her full name for its pretense of regality, but this is her official bio and I am her brother, so that’s what she gets! She was born on October 1st sixteen years ago and I’ve known her ever since. She’s not too fond of school -- I mean, who isn’t? -- so my parents tried to put her in boarding school for the first two years of high school, but it was too much, being hippie and foodie and no closer to Hogwarts. We love her but it’s not her priority for happiness at this moment -- I’m not sure what is and neither is she, so she’s pretty down. And by pretty down, I mean far too clinically down. But maybe public school is treating her better? I should check in more often. She likes writing poetry and runs cross country because it’s the least competitive sport. She’s full of sass and cracks as many jokes as she does depressing sentiments. I know she’ll figure things out soon, but until then -- she’s still Ezzie.

 

With absolute affection,

Nathaniel

 

Letter from V to O

  • By VALERIE KASPAREK
  • Apr 25, 2016
  • 2 min read

Mon, April 18th, 2016

Oslo,

Well well well! At long last! Your voice carries like something real through this ocean of false fragrances and bland meatloaf dinners I’ve been drowning in. How wonderful it was to actually hear from you and to be reassured that not all I do is in vain.

I just escaped from a wretched art class. They were trying to make me arrange a collage of my life made out of magazine clippings from Cat Weekly and Vanity Fair -- can you imagine? How am I supposed to describe my life with combinations like that? It’s the structures we’re set into, Oslo. They’re all wrong. From the moment we’re born until the day we die that’s all there is -- structure after structure surrounding us like invisible cages laced in electric wires. The problem is attempting to think inside them. That’s why we try so hard to fight for little liberties all our lives because we think they might give us some agency -- a bit more stretching room -- where there is none. Do you think death will finally give us some real liberation as it truly is a place that no one here has yet experienced? I can’t believe I’m saying this, but the thought of that actually gave me a thrill of elation. Can you imagine?

I’m sorry to hear you’ve been feeling so down. I completely understand and can relate. Yes, I have tried to climb out the window but it was a night terror. These days they have to belt me down but I don’t mind. What does that say about how far I’ve come if I would actually allow near strangers to tie me down in sleep? I didn’t even let my ex-husband do that. Unfortunately, I lack the strength now to even open the window by myself. Curse the weaknesses bequeathed by old age! At least I can still move my fingers enough to write to you.

What do you say, get a house together? I’m sure some of the old folks here would go into it with us. And why not, anyway? I’m sure you used to do things like that. Live with multitudes of other youths in bohemian squalor and not care about the filth because we were so damn free. I wouldn’t mind that again at all. Though we would have to hire a legion of moving men daily.

Give it some thought.

Until then--

V.


 
 
 

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