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What The Hell Is That Ringing Noise?

Dear Old School Phone Caller, Not very many people pick up the phone and call to see how things are going anymore. We check our usual social streams and get 140 character updates and assume we're caught up. The notion to call people to see how they're doing or just to shoot the shit doesn't even cross our minds anymore. It's as if the human voice has deminished in weight and lost out to the characters on our screens. Thanks for engaging me in this almost archaic method of real human connection. What's next? I say we bring back the stoop.  -Dave
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The Shadows Will Swallow You Whole

Dear Shadow Lurker, I can understand why you stay where you do, poking your head out just long enough for the odd passerby to recognize that there is life that dances behind your eyes. But you immediately retreat to the shadows where the countless shades of grey are indistinguishable to everyone but you. At first it didn't make sense but now it is so clear. I wondered why anyone would want to live so isolated and alone, hiding their brilliance from all but those who have looked them in the eye: Confidence, or lack thereof. As you stand with your back against the wall, the grey of the shadows swallows your confidence in the same darkness that envelops the glimmer in your eye. Supressing your confidence allows you not to challenge yourself. It allows you to remain mediocre. . . if that. Do us all a favour: step from the shadows & challenge yourself. You will be brilliant. PS - The confidence will come.  -The Mirror
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The Deafening Sound Of Silence

Dear Silent Caretaker, Today I noticed you as I sat awkwardly by myself in the large cafe eating lunch. I said nothing as you simply acknowledged my presence while my eyes followed your every move. You diligently cleaned, washed and wiped the machines and surfaces I use everyday in your absense. Today, however, you were present. I felt like an intruder. An awkward, silent, unappreciative intruder. At least that's what I recognized today. Everyday your work goes unnoticed by me. Yet everyday I eat on clean tables, drink out of clean mugs and walk on clean floors. I was speechless;  frozen with embarassment as my awkward silence became deafening. I wish I could take those moments back. I wish I said something, anything. I wish . . . .  -Dave
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Can Art Change The World?

Today’s letter was inspired by JR, the 2011 TED Prize winner for his inside out project. Watch the video below

Dear Portrait Paster, A portrait covering the wall of a building. Another enveloping a staircase. The faces of the family whose children were murdered grace the beat up houses on dusty hillside, forming one of the most magnificent family portraits I have ever seen. The eyes and smiles of children cover the roofs of the shanty town where they live; the pictures doubling as waterproof shelter. Every piece you create means something. They force us and those that see them to think. They force us to make a choice: we can wake up and see the beauty of human life or continue on in blissful ignorance, assuming we're the only ones in the world that matter. You recently asked, "Can art change the world." The answer is obvious. You are already doing it.  -Dave
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Changing the world one reminder at a time

Today’s letter goes out to Things We Forget (@thingsvforget).
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Two Bodies, One Heart

Dear Devastated Parents, I can't imagine what it would be like to find out that your are carrying two babies that share the same heart, knowing that they both cannot live. A mutual friend told me your story and it seems so unfair and contradictory to what we as humans actually experience. I don't think we can actually live WITHOUT sharing our heart with someone else. Maybe that's what your babies were made for; to connect your hearts in a way you never imagined.  -Dave