Any Old Letters

I read rather deep into the otherwise gale-stricken night, the opacity of which was navigated albeit with more faith than verve. I think Prieto may be asserting that in an impermanent world, letters reflect a momentary handle, a reprieve amidst the flux and that such can't beging to reflect reality especially within the collision of two people already/always in flux. If this sounds Heideggerian . . .