Never been much of a storyteller, but always loved stories. These past days, I’ve heard so many…stories that made me laugh, and then there were those that saddened me. It feels like my life has intersected with theirs in that moment in time. I knew of their existence. Some of these letters were hand-written, and through their penmanship, I seem to learn even more about them. I examine the way their fold their letters, they way to arrange it, the creases, coffee stains if any.

I know of an old lady, being sent to the emergency room after being hit by a car running 10mph. I know of an old man who rode on a plane to go vacationing and somehow got food poison. There was another old man who went to the emergency room after getting bug bites all over his body. And then there were those that made me think about all the sadness in the world. Like finding out ICD-9-CM diagnosis 995.53 is code for child sexual abuse. Or finding out depressed mothers going to the train tracks or overdosing...

We have become such a depressed society.