My dear it may seem strange that all at once our communion suddenly turned sour like that bitter lemon which mamas give their sons when bad. Our friendship I held so dear and high as the sky - I loved it as the watchmen loved the morning. You may wonder why did I jump upon the first wagon which now has spoilt our road taking me far away from you. It is all to do with me for your seed has now grown so strong in my heart yielding sweet fruits intended for princesses tables. I must run my dear, I must run and distance will begin to rot and wither these vines which have long nourished upon your sunshine. Your words watered them and your presence caused its growth. Forgive me my dear if this sudden news will produce a melancholy desire in you and should your tears be of love and longing then I beg that you seek reconciliation in the master of all Comfort; seek guidance from the best of counsellors and seek life in the best of givers. I am sure you know of whom I speak Father Spirit and Son.