I'm so sorry, Ingrid. I know that if I
I'm so sorry, Ingrid. I know that if I don't destroy this picture, a copy of your soul will be damned to stay inside it forever, but it's the only thing I have left of you, and I just can't let go. I hope you arne't too mad about the new girl. I still love you. I think if I could marker a moustache or something over your picture, maybe it wouldn't trap you any more, but I'm afraid because there's no way to make sure. I really hope you arne't suffering. I'm sure God will tell me what to do. Don't worry. Everything will be allright. I promise.
- Hestacley Tairs