Dear Soren,

Do you still hold to the belief that today was your birthday, and when I say that, what I mean is, do you have faith that this day was, in fact, your birthday?

I, for one, doubt very much that it is, perhaps going so far as to question the very nature, nay, the existence, of birthdays.  You will no doubt try to convince me that by questioning the notion I have opened the doorway for faith itself, weakening my own position while strengthening yours.  I will have none of it.

The birthday cake today was, however, quite delicious, regardless of who is right (me), and I must remember to thank your mother when I see her next.  Quite unexpectedly, your mother has opened my eyes to a whole new line of thought:  I eat, therefore I am.

(Yes, I know it has holes.  I’m still working on it, so don’t waste your time cutting it to ribbons.)

Numeratively yours,

Rene

Soren,

Leave it to you to tell your mother about the missing candles.  Perhaps they simply lost their reality when you stopped thinking about them.  You didn’t think of that, did you?  No, I didn’t think so.

And yes, if we went and looked in my knapsack, I’m sure we would find the birthday candles there.  Thought there by you, of course, just to make me look bad.

Now, perhaps you can stop accusing me of petty thievery before I stop thinking of you completely. 

Soren?  Soren who?  I can’t even imagine anyone named Soren.  Poof!

I know you don’t want any of that action.

~ Rene

Busby Berkeley?  Are you kidding?  He loved watching philosophers dance around the questions.

Soupcon - what a great word.

I love words, therefore I Scrine.

Now I just have to wait for ‘s’ to come around in the ‘one’ sentence.