a love letter.

i read beethoven's love letters.

i concluded that his sweetheart probably didn't finish reading them.

i won't.

=.=

no offence to beethoven and his fans.

messy people are successful people.
see, my messiness is well-justified.

the best part of his letters was:

now that is sweet.

sir arthur conan doyle once wrote that there's a him for everyone. for sherlock, it was montgomery. for believers, it must necessarily be their Lord. for beethoven's sweetheart, it was dear ludwig, a name so familiar that a letter of the alphabet sufficed.

we don't know if beethoven ever sent those letters. if he did, i'd say he had so much free time to recopy them to keep them in his desk. either that or his eternal beloved returned the letters. blazes, woman. how could you? cis.

by the way,


that's the actual third page of his love letter.

k, now i'm absolutely sure she didn't finish reading his letters.