I am not sure why I am writing to you now. To be honest, I have barely thought of you since I got here. But suddenly, after all this time, I feel there is something to say, and if I don't quickly write it down, my head will burst. It doesn't matter if you read it. It doesn't matter if I send it—assuming it could be done. Perhaps it comes down to this. I am writing to you because you know nothing. Because you are far away from me and know nothing.