My mentor dear J. D Salinger. I pray you found peace. Life taught you to seek loneliness. You saw the bloody war, opened up the death camps for the world to see. Lost a great love and sought salvation in loneliness. Mr. Salinger, what you could of taught us.
I wish I knew you Ernest. I would of loved to shared a whiskey in Paris with you, a pint of beer in New York city. I would want to hear you talk. You saw two wars and lived a life seeking new places and to test life. Your words left. Education, if you read and try to understand. I wonder what was your last thoughts before you pulled the trigger. Regret or maybe the blood of war had found you?
You were a master of the word. Your words hard and true. Only hard reader can read your books. Painted Bird and Being there. My education into real writing. You saw death and you lost everything. You survived war roaming as a child. You left us with more questions than answers. Dear Kosinski. You died alone, plaster bag upon your face and told no-one goodbye. What did you think in the last moments? Did you remember war? Did you remember your family? Did you remember love? One day, I will ask you why at the purgatory Inn?
Words, my friend. Us, who love to write. We bleed to paper. Our blessing and our greatest pain. I held a 30-30 once. Hemingway and Kosinski whispered to me. Not your time yet. We will meet at the Purgatory Inn later. Not tonight.