Correspondence? No. A slight opening in the window. A peek, is all. Nothing more. There were words addressed towards me. I didn't respond, I couldn't. Everything would've overflowed out of me. It was the simplest of questions and I was moved to utter tears. I could not have responded in any coherent fashion then, I had to abandon the enterprise all together. After this long silence, I can't imagine if it was difficult to reach so deep into the past? I have wrangled with it for this long, ever since day one and yet here I am, with no means. But things have changed suddenly. I have been reached. There, I see the hand. I could've simply said "everything is fine, I'm good." and that would've been the end of it and the possible beginning of another short-lived conversation. But if these continue to emerge after centuries of dead silence then would it be too crazy to read into them. Would it mean something about my placement? Am I here or am I there? Or am I simply insane. I have no means to rectify this motion, I am thoroughly ashamed and yet I was told I wasn't the only one to be blamed. Does that mean there is a somewhat similar thought process at work over there? Problem is, how can I know if this reopening was spontaneous or the result of months of deliberations? How do I deduce the conclusions of that answer? If it was spontaneous then was it because something random triggered my memory and thus I was contacted? Or if it is the result of deliberations was a result found? If so, why haven't I been able to find it? What is it that I am missing? In my entire process I am thoroughly entangled in all sorts of confusions. At times it is the confusion that almost drives me to make first contact, but then my shame and my guilt overcomes my confusions and I retreat back to my solitary senses. Maybe, today, the confusions were overwhelming and they flowed over and above all obstacles. Maybe the decisive battle was fought today and all shackles were broken and true passions raced out of the door. Maybe no longer were they to be contained by the curious nets of confusions, no longer were they to answer to any feelings that could tie them back down. I can't imagine any of this happening in anybody's head other than mine.

All I have is the email staring back at me, that is all I have got. I don't even have a reply. I remember I had made some kind of a promise but everything is forgotten. My reaction to reading the name, even before the message, was to run with pure elation to somebody whom I could openly disclose this new development to. And then the swift and sudden reconciliation to my present state of affairs slapped me back towards my reality. I was not surrounded by anyone who expects me to disclose anything to them. I am the brooding, silent being occupying a certain space on this planet and within whom life finds enough resources to sustain existence.