Leralara

Off the top of my head… the unknown author of the journal I bought and stashed away 20 years ago. I am knee deep in mystery— its like quicksand—I gotta know.

It was springtime in Manhattan, 1998, I was fresh, (glowing green) from Arkansas and working in a gallery on 57th Street. I had hopes of signing with one of the big agencies, but after 2 soft no’s, I was feeling down. I ducked into a vintage shop on my way to Ford Models, all I found was an old journal, I looked at the scrawled cursive (which now seems quite elegant) and stuck it in my bag. Apparently, I had time to stick the folded up horoscope I had been toting along that day— it spoke of a new career that would put a dream within reach. It came true. I joined Ford as a 12+ model and started traveling internationally almost immediately— the journal and horoscope faded from my mind.

Fast forward about 20 years— sorting through a box in my mothers things, there it was. I was shocked when the horoscope fell out, along with the cards from the shop all those years ago.

In addition to these things, were 3 letters, previously unnoticed, from a soldier in Paris during WW1. As I read, my interest grew from a charming insight allowed into a world 100 years past— to what the—?

“…and she better dry up right then, or ill tell him who I’ve been fighting, or better yet, what.” Huh? Odd.

Then I noticed the strange capitalizations— the tiny fractions, dots and dashes, its a mystery I’m slowly unraveling.

So ya. I’d like to speak to whomever penned this epistle, which has extended its long arm out from the grave, and into my world.

There’s so much more to tell. Pullman Trains, Pierce Arrows, the leaking of the Treaty of Versailles to the Chicago Tribune. Robert McCormick.

So that’s where I’m at— xx! Back to the obsession! A moment to consider who might be reading this— a longer one to imagine and send a healthy dose of good energy your way.

Best. Lara