"Sent" never pressed

Hey oh,

I think I love Coventry. Everyone I know hates it. I guess they aren't crazy about the stark 1960's architecture. I love it. Its real. You can see the war in it. I love walking around the new and old cathedral. I love the shops, traffic free. As I walk though, there are desi's dressed like rappers, blacks who stare you down, white aunties with walkers, big dogs and their big owners, punk chick with pink hair. I love going there but no one else does. No one else likes just going to it in the old cathedral with no roof because of the bombing. You would probably like going on these aimless trips. I think you would.

I don't know the rules of engagement here. I didn't know them back home even. But I don't really care. I think I left my heart on a window sill in Lahore.

I don't sleep well. I miss my room. I call this my pseudo room. I miss not having the option to call you. Not that I called you when we were in the same city, but I had the option. I guess I still do. Maybe I will call you sometime. But I wonder if you will have anything to say. I remember we used to just sit silently together until one of us could come up with something to say, "you know what..."

I'm writing this on a bus to London. I wanted to use a pen while writing this. Its beautiful outside. Chris Martin is in my ears saying "its such a perfect day". I wanted to write a calm letter without emoticons and misplaced commas. I think you deserve it. I think I deserve it. Sign outside says "Buckinghamshire". Didn't know they had a county called that.

I could live here you know. But never alone. So I'm coming back on the 6th instead of the 18th.

Careers fair in London. Pink shirt, pinstriped trousers, pumps with wedges, I have the cliche down. QQ would look like an amateur.

What happened to the music? You used to send songs, did they finish with Fizz and Purple Haze? I burnt garlic bread to heck yesterday, living up to expectations. I am so jealous. Seriously. I miss hanging out. Missed it since junior year.

Might see those in London. Would rather see you, Basil, or the midget instead.

This is me being expressive. I'm gonna type this up and send it. Sending it by post seems a bit retarded. I'm going to pop open a can of Diet Coke and read up on the Rwandan Genocide, I have a presentation coming up. Humanitarianism. Cool stuff. I wanted to write this, had the intense urge. And we both know I can write a mean letter.

With sentimentality to a minimum,
LSE