I have come a long way since our companionship ended. And I have many admissions to make. I gave up the lofty ideals I saw in you. I admit I have stooped down to come to the world’s terms – the crooked, wicked, blotted world. And there’s nothing to inspire me. The grandiose example, your example, has faded gradually into the annals of past and I have grown a set of my own principles, none which I could pride myself with. If you were here, I have no doubt your presence alone would have sufficed as an inspiration to keep my course. But now that you’re not, I have nothing to hold on to. I sway from dislocation to dislocation and my life has turned an anachronism. There’s no definitiveness, nothing certain about me – and even when the banality of my ways appalls me in my lone moments, I can’t give it up now. There’s no will left in me to desire for a change. I’ve simply accepted things as they are. I just hope in this lifetime or next, wherever we meet or howsoever we meet, you’d understand.