A letter from Bruce Lee

I don’t know who still writes letters in the times we live, but as for me, this is the only way to romanticize life, okay, maybe not the only way, but definitely one of the purest and sincere.

Letters are what writers do and think in the evening of their thoughts. For it is there, in the darkened, innermost recesses of one’s mind, well behind the glare of superficiality and trivia, that our passions, desires, and truest selves reside.

As someone once said, no idea who, but for sure a well respected man, a letter is one of the few things left entirely romantic, for to be entirely romantic, a thing must be irrevocable.

How do I make this statement irrevocable?

Well, I guess I just have to send it.

Why do I make it?

Because I’m old fashioned. I believe I should have written it with a pencil on a paper and sent it by a pigeon, but all my pigeons took a day off today to celebrate the full moon.

Isn’t a full moon beautiful? I saw it last night in my dreams. It was half cheesy half lava colored and big, really big, as are your beautiful eyes.

Too cheesy?

Neh, goddamn beautiful eyes.

So I write this one to say how much I appreciate you. I feel like I have to be more grateful for everything in my life and for everything you did to me. You most probably don’t understand or you just think I’m making up a good story.

Maybe… you don’t understand.

I learned to see the world as it was described in the words of Shakespear (to keep it romantic) but it can be of the same truth if I substitute his name with Tao, Jesus, Buddha, Einstein, Churchill or Bruce Lee.

To live content with small means; to seek elegance rather than luxury, and refinement rather than fashion, to be worthy, not respectable, and wealthy, not rich; to study hard, think quietly, talk gently, act frankly; to bear all cheerfully, do all bravely, await occasions, hurry never.

How is it your merit?

You tell me.