Dear Sir

I love you. Always. Continuously. With increasing apprehension, but also with greater hope. I will love you, with no regard to the actions of our enemies or my jealousies. I will love you with no regard, to the outrage of certain parents or of certain friends. I will love you no matter how many mistakes I make with our story, and no matter how difficult it is to decipher your sarcasm. I will love you, no matter how your rugby team performed in a tournament or how many stains I received on my uniform. 

I will love you in absence, as much as if I were to never set eyes upon you again, and I will love you even on the mundane Wednesdays we spend together. I will love you if you decide to change your hairstyle and I will love you if you cut the hair of others. I will love you if you abandon your knack for helping people, and I will love you if you retire from work to take up some other occupation. I will love you if you drop your raincoat on the floor instead of hanging it up and I will love you if you betray your family. I will love you even if you announce that the songs of Enya are the best in the world and even if you announce that the lyrics of Taylor Swift are unbearably tedious. 

I will love you as the mango tree trapped you because it loved you, and as your daughter loves to kick a soccer ball, even if the oceans were to turn to dust and the trees fell in the forest with no one to witness. I will love you as the chilli loves to burn the tongue, and as the cigar smoke loves clinging to coats, and as the shushi loves the wasabi. I will love you as Applesauce loves the head scratches, and as the girls love McDonald's, and as the kids love dancing, and as you love your almonds. I will love you, as you being a doctor loves your sickest patient and a lake loves its thirstiest swimmer. I will love you as your beard loves your chin, and the crumbs love your beard, and the damp napkin loves the crumbs, and the pages of a book loves the dampness in the napkin, and the squinting eye of the reader loves the smudged print of the book, and the tears of sadness love the squinting eye as it misreads what is written. 

I will love you as the rain loves the mountains, and as the mountains love the hunters, and as the hunters love guns, and as the guns love the impact against their targets. I will love you as a stranger loves to overhear the conversations of lovers, and us loving the sound of our own arguing voices, and as the phone loves to record the words our voices utter.

I will love you as a shingle loves falling off a house on a windy day and striking a grumpy person across the chin, and as an oven loves malfunctioning in the middle of baking a birthday cake. I will love you as an airplane loves to fall from a clear blue sky and as an escalator loves to entangle expensive scarves in its mechanisms. I will love you as your truck loves the muddy splash of a puddle and as a library loves the patient tick of a clock. I will love you as a thief loves a gallery and as a crow loves a murder, as a deer loves berries, and as rock crevices love bears. 

I will love you as misfortune loves war, as fire loves the furnaces and as alliances love to sit and watch while everything burns. I will love you as a battlefield loves the troops, and as the troops love the training camps, and I will love you as the banana peel loves the shoe of a man who was just struck by a shingle falling off a house. 

I will love you as a drawer loves a secret compartment, and as a secret compartment loves a secret, and as a secret loves to make a person gasp, and as a gasping person loves a glass of whiskey to calm their nerves, and as a glass of whiskey loves to shatter on the floor, and as the noise of glass shattering loves to make someone else gasp, and as someone else gasping loves a nearby desk to lean against, even if leaning against it presses a lever that loves to open a drawer and reveal a secret compartment. I will love you until all such compartments are unveiled and opened, and all the secrets have gone gasping into the world. 

I will love you until all the codes and hearts have been broken and until every anagram and egg has been unscrambled. I will love you until the kites hate the sky, and sky hates the birds, and the birds hate worms, and the worms hate apples, until the apple hates a tree, and the tree hates a nest, and until a bird hates a tree and an apple hates a nest, although honestly I cannot imagine that last occurrence no matter how hard I try. 

I will love you as we grow older, which has just happened, and has happened again, and happened several days ago, continuously, and then several years before that, and will continue to happen as the spinning hands of every clock and the flipping pages of every calendar mark the passage of time, except for the clocks that people have forgotten to wind and the calendars that people have forgotten to place in a highly visible area. 

I will love you even if we find ourselves farther and farther from one another, where once we were so close that we could hear every breath, and the sound of where we were. I will love you until the chances of our paths crossing diminish from slim to none, until your face becomes veiled by distant memories, and your memories obscured by distant fog, and your fog memorised by a distant face, and your distance distanced by the memorised memory of a foggy fog. I will love you no matter where you go and who you see, no matter where you avoid and who you don't see, and no matter who sees you avoiding where you go. I will love you no matter what happens to you, and no matter how I discover what happens to you, and no matter what happens to me as I discover this, and no matter how I am discovered after what happens to me happens to me as I am discovering this. 

I will love you if you don't marry me. I will love you if you wed someone else. And I will love you if you have another child, and I will love you if you have two more children, or three more children, or even more, although I personally think three is plenty, since you and I already have three between us, and I will love you if you never marry at all, and never have more children, and spend your years wishing you had married me after all, and must say that on late cold nights, I prefer this scenario out of all the scenarios I have mentioned. That, Josue, is how I love you, even as the world goes on its wicked way.

Tu me manques. Qui sait quand je te verrai ?