Fancy meeting another, all the way out here. Although, maybe it is not all that surprising; I have a feeling that if you had never travelled here to meet me, I would not be here to greet you.

Consider me an emissary. A deliveryperson. Like a midwife, but instead of the hope of new life, I only have what's in my hands right now.

As you can see, my hands are quite full. Although these things are all dear to me, if I am to part with them, I would prefer to leave them in the hands of another. You must understand. What, of mine, would you like?

Very well, here you are. They don't even seem to be 'letters', really. Just a pile of papers with haphazardly-written thoughts staining the pages. 'Almost a waste of paper' is what I would say, if they weren't so dear to me. Either way, they're yours now.