As one you recommend as a writer, I fail you. You have, unintentionally, rendered me mute. But, this is me, a lot of words to say I am wordless.

Wait. There is more.

You are one of the hand-full of writers on medium I consistently admire, and for you to honestly say these things about me, about something that spoke itself through me, sends me spinning.

I have no adequate words of “thanks”.
Some will say I praise you because you praise me. You and I know better, and those two opinions are all that matters here.

As you know, I have been tempted to pick up my marbles, quit and go hide. That would be the act of the “poor me” “little boy” that still dwells inside me, waiting to whine in embarrassing self pity. You, reliable good friend that you are, grab me by my throat, look me in the eye, and with great understanding say, “Fuck this self defeatist attitude. Grow up”, or words that carried that truthful message, a message from a wise and caring friend. Your soul is too rare.

OK, enough. We shall carry on our honest exchange as long as the Fates allow. Then upon graduation from this strange land in which we are both strangers, I expect we will, from the advantage of a different point of view, continue our dialogue. We will share an infinite new land to explore. But, let neither of us rush our graduation. At age 86, I am likely closer to that day than you. But, who knows. I only know I have much more to learn and do here, and I’d like to get it done on this trip in your good company.
I said you rendered me mute. By now you see l lied. You suspected I would before i discovered I would.