Dear Amberly,

I’m a hypocrite. I said I wasn’t going to visit one more bloody detour of yours and here I am, typewriter in my lap, looking out over the Grand Canyon. I hate you. I bloody hate your guts Amberly Hunstworth. But, I love the Grand Canyon.

Its quite lovely here. Everything is orange and red and very gritty. It smells like mule fecal matter and car exhaust. I’m adoring every minute of this. Did I mention I saw a pack mule this morning that was a dead ringer for your mother? Its true, I took a polaroid of it for proof. I hope you enjoy it as much as I have.

Tommorow I will be in California. Please tell me you are jealous. I wouldn’t be, do I sound thrilled? Alright, so its thousands of miles away from my detested uncle and your heinous mother…and you. Which, I guess is okay, but come on, I really didn’t want to come.

But, now you can write me now that I will have an address. I look forward to it, but only in jest.

Best wishes,

Kingsley