My dear Jeongguk,

I arrived back in London this morning. The wait at the train station prior to that was no less than pure agony. I waited for you, but you didn't come.

Perhaps Mister Conley picked that up, he questioned too. Though, I believe I never cared less of what he thinks. However, one last time before leaving your town, I wished to see your face, to hold your hand, if it was not too much to ask for.

I shall never disregard your words, not at all. In fact, I have sat down with myself and wondered greatly about the things that you said. You're not wrong, you can never be. I truly immersed myself in the pleasure that has always consumed me as an author and now a poet, that I failed to see what your presence in it clearly was. I thought and thought, if maybe above all that, my feelings were hypocritical too?

But they're not, my dear. No matter how much I think and ponder, I come standing right back at the first step. I love you. And I love you with all my heart. I love you like I have never loved anyone else. I'm not merely in love, Jeongguk, my darling, I have FALLEN in love with you. It's a fall that I find myself ready to experience over and over, because it's you who I fall for.

In honesty, I do love writing, as I always have. But all of it, it's not a person, my love. You are. You are a living and breathing entity whom I truly adore. My feelings were never misguided to begin with, I am sure of that now. Although, I am not one bit appalled when I sincerely apologize for anything that I may have ever said or done to hurt you.

I'd never hurt you. It would be the last thing I shall want. Your eyes are not for crying, as I have said. And as I write this, with an aching heart that dearly hopes that you write back to me, I shall hope that this hurting ends for us both. If I have truly loved you, then I believe I am capable enough to say that you loved me too. And I know your words the other night were the product of frustration that the Conleys may have made you feel. Only if I could turn back time, I'd never invite you there.

With a clear head and sun above our heads, it's easy to think. Perhaps that shall give you a new light to think about what you have always meant to me? I keep my promise, and I sit here writing this to you. Write back to me, keep your promise too?

I love you.

Jimin Park,

28th August, 1923.

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My dear Jeongguk,

I have waited for your letter for over a week now but I haven't received it. I almost wondered if mine didn't reach you, but then I am certain that I obtained the right address. In case it was missed, I'm writing you another one.

A handful of days have passed and Joe, my manager, has sped up the process of publishing. The editing was solely done by me, not that I believed it needed any. These poems are as raw as they could be and that is how I wish for people to read them. More than anything, I'd wish for you to lay your hands on this book, my dear. In all my being, would that I had stayed, I'd given you the book myself. However, the circumstances have deemed it nearly impossible.

I cannot say much without knowing your opinion and thoughts regarding the matter we seemed to have an argument about before I left your beautiful town. But I shall hope I am forgiven. Not a day goes by when I'm not thinking of you. And I wonder if I cross your mind too?

Or as little as a fraction? Even that would make me indescribably delighted.

Please write back to me. I shall wait.

I love you.

Jimin Park,

10th September, 1923.

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My dear Jeongguk,

The publishing process is complete, Joe says the books shall reach the market in another two days.

I can't fathom what I feel right now. Not in words, as I thought to myself. But as I sit here writing to you, I see your face behind my sore eyelids and suddenly, there's so much to say. I recall how easy it is to talk to you, even when you're not here, and even if it's just a mere letter addressed to you, I have so much that I can say. So much that I may not have been able to tell anyone else.

My poetry book will be called Poet's Garden, my love. Now there are so many reasons for it. Your flower shop, the place I deem myself lucky to step into for I found you there, is named as such. You, yourself, were like that to me. Do you remember when you asked me if a poetry book was ordered as a novel would be? Then, I had no answer. But now I do. I understand how several different emotions came together, like a garden with flowers so many that you can't even name them all yet you see them. That's how you shall see my poems. They're so different but they're a garden.

And I don't see anyone else more skilled than a florist to know just what flower to pick to make a perfect bouquet. I shall leave that to you, my dear.

Although, another ten days have passed and I haven't heard from you. I shall assume out of my curiosity that perhaps you do not want to see or hear from me again? I wouldn't entirely understand what I did to hurt you this much, but if that makes you go about in your life with peace, then I shan't question your decisions.

I still love you.

Jimin Park,

22nd September, 1923.

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My dear Jeongguk,

Should you ever write to me, as you promised, I wonder what you'd say.

Do you think of us? Do you think of love? Do you still think it makes you cry? Even though I hadn't known it then, I know it now.

Love makes you cry, yes. And it's a constant array of anguish for me to think that you may cry because of me. See, my love, you weren't just a lover to me, you were LOVE to me. That is how I saw you, if I say the truth and come clean. You are love to me. And love itself wasn't to get hurt.

But I hurt you, did I not?

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, my dear. I shan't know how much it means but I too live in a lost life that seems to have no meaning now. I miss you, I think of you and my heart hurts. If only I could embrace you, tell you, apologise to you.

Love does make you cry, Jeongguk. It does. And I don't know how to stop it.

Yours,

Jimin Park,

25th September, 1923.

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Dear Missus Avery,

I shall hope you and your family are in good spirits, Mister Avery and little Henry, that is. I am well too, as I'd suppose. I travelled back to London around a month ago and I'm happy to say that my book is now published for everyone to read.

The reason I write this to you is to inquire if perhaps your brother, Mister Jeon, happened to have changed his address? You see, I've tried on a few occasions to reach out to him, sending my letters to the address of his cottage. However, as it seems, the letters aren't reaching him. I wondered if you knew something regarding this matter that could be of my help?

I should like for Mister Jeon to have a copy of my book that he so generously helped take shape. Or if I could mayhaps have his new address in case he relocated? I'd anxiously await your response.

Thank you.

Jimin Park,

27th September, 1923.

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My love,

I wrote to your sister. I wonder if you do not live at your cottage anymore. Although, I shall dare to send another letter there.

I am certain that you weren't a speck of my imagination, that you were as real as it could be.

I am certain that I love you.

I do.

Yours,

Jimin.

27th September, 1923.

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Dear Mister Park,

I cannot say how inexact your timing may have been when you wrote to me. Me and Mister Avery shall be leaving for France tomorrow and it is only today that I received your letter. Our trip is strictly business however I can't be certain of when we shall come back to Bellbarrow.

Regarding your inquiry, I have not heard from my brother since the wedding. We met right after, although that would be all. I can't speak for sure to say if he has relocated from his cottage. In my knowledge, he does not have a definite place to switch to. So, I remain clueless as to why your letters aren't reaching him.

Due to the immediate rush, I won't be able to go see him personally and convey your message, however I must mention that Henry is staying here in Bellbarrow. I shall be making sure myself that to the least, he pays Jeongguk a visit and inquires about your letters.

Sincerely,

Anne-Marie Avery.

3rd October, 1923