July 3, 2023

My dearest,

It must have been between the the starters – a platter of cold cuts and cheeses from a farm in Tuscany, and a pair of pan-seared foie gras with pineapple purée and caramelised shallots – and our spaghetti; one plate featuring pork belly, tiger prawns, garlic and chillies, topped with a slice of blood pudding ham; the other in a white wine sauce, with Italian squid and clams, baby octopus and more prawns, lightened with cherry tomatoes.

You asked me about the multiverse.

Or perhaps the concept of multiverses, as expounded by comic giants. Interdimensional sorcerers and arachnid men in one; time-warping speedsters and caped crusaders in the other.

Was it our identities or our roles that repeat in every universe? Our very beings or souls?

I gamely offered one answer, then another. I didn’t understand what you were asking about, of course. I could make a living answering such questions but you take them far more seriously than I do.

What I do know is simply this: in this universe, in this world, right now, there is only one me and there is only one you. There is only one us, and that’s very fine indeed.

If the multiverse truly existed, and there are other versions of you and other versions of me, I can only hope they find each other too, and are as blessed as we are, to live together happily.

Yours, ever and always.