A Letter To be Read

Carl, now he is 14, but still has one problem. He stays in his room alone looking out the window. He is shy, but there in front of him, a notebook lays there opened with a pencil by its side, and in the notebook, he draws. He draws what he sees, what comes out of his mind. Dragons, flowers, the beach or sometimes he would draw his little chihuahua.

He takes it everywhere, and when somebody gets close to him and asks him something, he closes his note book, screams, and leaves running.

Carl, the talented, the sensible, the one who doesn't talk, doesn't know we want to be his friends.

I had an idea that would free him from the box that keeps him captures. I would write him letters. Letters that would tell him that we could trade drawing, and then like that, we were friends.

Although years have passed, he writes me in hotmail and he scans his picture just like before.

He doesn't talk to people, he just keeps quiet. With me, a letter is always there in my inbox. Letters that are read everyday with a picture from him.