Nov. 24

11/24/2025 10:11 Correspondence 97 - Emergency Holiday Correspondence 

The tale of Portal Fall

I climbed into my vehicle right around 12 pm and stepped out in an unfamiliar space and time. I'm still working on this theory, but during my two-hour drive down to meet an old friend in Charleston, my car slipped through loose pavement. It slipped far out of space, time, and my mind. And I emerged driving down a one-way, dead-end street. Stuck, I did a three-point turn with the sun in my eyes. With the sun to my back, my eyes adjusted, and I was met face to face with a horse. A horse and carriage, to be exact. I made my way carefully around the horse, so as not to spook the creature. It didn't belong here. It was surrounded by noise. Noises from incoceable and unknowable orgians. I felt a deep sympathy for the being. But it stared at me with a sad indifference as its conductor led it away, concluding the tour. 

I made my way too. Down countless colorful streets and waterlogged pathways. I was simply looking for a place to rest and regain my bearings in this strange new realm. As I was trying to make my way down winding streets, I set down an alley with ancient-looking brick buildings to either side of me. Marveling at the construction and wondering how long it must have taken to lay every brick, I made a blunder. A wheel stepped on a plate on the ground, and I heard a rumble. A rumble that shook me to my core. Those ancient brick walls started to constrict around my white steed. Inch by inch, the alley grew narrower and narroweer, as if trying to strangle me. I kept my hands on the wheel and pressed forward, hoping to find a way out. 

I eventually found a hut to rest. The problem was, it was covered in riddles and numbers. almost undecipherable. I made my way in nonetheless and found a spot. I turned the keys and grabbed my stuff, and met my wonderful friend. A guide in these lands. It was a deep comfort to me to see a face so familiar. It has been far too long. And we made our way out of the hut to her abode. 

A comment on roommates and anxiety. My friend lives in a semi-apartment-style dorm with a shared living space, but three shared rooms split between seven people, if I counted correctly. My friend shares a space with three others. A feat in my eyes. A challenge and accomplishment I will forever respect while never understanding how it is possible. This detail is of important note because it has made me deeply reflect on my own college experiences. More on this later. 

Stepping through the threshold of her second-floor room was like entering an entirely separate portal. I was quite literally stepping into a life and lifestyle that is not my own. As stories were started and tea was spilled, I felt a sense of panic. There is so much life that goes on here. So much laughter and tears. So many memories and nights. So much living. 

I had grown unfamiliar with these things in a living space. 

For the last 4 months, I have been living alone. Alone in a shoue box of my own creation. Nights and mornings spent to the beat of a single heartbeat. Mornings spent alone and slow with NPR and a meditative cup of tea. And nights spent alone in front of a computer, this computer, reaching deep within my own soul, looking for unknown things. 

I am struck by how truly different our lifestyles are. It's somewhat hard for me to grasp what goes on here in this strange new place. It's hard for me to picture solely from a lack of experience. I find myself slipping to that knife-edge of binary thinking and self-comparison. I find myself trying to graft myself onto others, not just my friend I'm with now, who I love and adore and is no doubt reading this. (Hi, by the way, Nice place you have. Thanks for having me over.) But to other friends as well. I fool myself that life is something that can be lived right and wrong, when I know deep down there is no such thing. I write this as fact, yet it's still sometimes hard for me to believe. 

I fell into a portal today, through the pavement, through time, through space, and through my mind. Whisked to an unfamiliar land that's sometimes hard to understand. The landscape, the time period, and even the social interactions are so distinct from my day-to-day life.

But maybe that's what makes things beautiful. 

I do feel for that horse, though. 

Goodnight, dear reader. 

Calvin Landreth