July 3, 2013

My dearest,

We walk through the woods in search of the fabled Blue Pond. Its waters are so blue the trees weep away all their leaves and display their naked melancholy for all the world to see.

These days this means tourists.

Our shoes sodden with the damp from the mossy forest path, we stumble upon the entrance to the Blue Pond near the foot of the snowy mountains.

The snow and the mountains aren’t the only signpost, of course. The wide open space of the parking lot, already half-filled with your buses and rented cars, is a pretty good indication too.

We observe a small gathering. No pond in sight, blue or otherwise. Whatever are they taking photographs of?

Closer the answer reveals itself: a red fox! A young adult by the looks of it. Wild but cunning enough to come and beg for alms from tourists armed with DSLRs and iPhones.

Rather than run away from approaching vehicles, the little fox runs to them, ready to relieve travellers of their burdensome snacks supply.

“You know,” you say, “it’s not really looking for food.”

“No?”

“No. The locals believe that centuries ago, before there was budget travel and before there were vending machines, there were a couple of young lovers in a village nearby.”

“Really?”

“Really. Of course, their families disapproved of their union. So they killed themselves.”

“They always do,” I noted sagely.

You ignore me and continue, “Their souls were reincarnated as a pair of foxes but they were cursed never to meet for lifetime after lifetime.”

“No!”

“Yes. The poor foxes, who could find each other shed tears and tears which pooled up over time into this pond. Naturally, as you must know, fox tears are blue in colour so the pond is a brilliant blue which attracts tourists till this day.”

“Poor foxes.”

“It’s not so bad. At least they have plenty of food from tourists until they find each other one day.”

Fox spirit lovers reincarnated cyclically in search of their other half, blue tears filling up an entire lake. Sounds suspicious. I look at you.

You grin back, as crafty as a fox.

Yours, ever and always.