"Letters to Eliza" is a tale of love. Letter No. 8

Eliza,
You probably don't know yet that trees also have stories to tell. Whether they stand motionless, sway monotonously to the beat of your breathing, or bend from side to side frantically, as you sometimes do, they are perhaps the best storytellers. On their leaves - transparent green, summer-hard like papyri, yellowing and falling to the ground at your feet with a clatter - the whole story is neatly written in my handwriting. In their veins, as well as in your veins, all seasons alternate one after another. That is why you sometimes want so uncontrollably to live, to be left to the wind, to listen to the sounds of summer, to be covered with gilding, to dance and disappear, so that soon after a few minutes of silence you will be born again. That is why, when you are lonely, and almost unbearably want to fly down the emerald tables of time, touch the tree, just stand there, recklessly embrace the tree, as if the tree is me. And in between breaths become this tree, find me. Believe me, anything complex can be very simple. In simplicity, God, Eliza.

Anastasia Volkhovskaya