In 1939, at the urging of physicist Leo Szilárd, Einstein wrote a letter to FDR, informing him of the Nazi’s plan to make an atom bomb.
But one cycle of the moon has since passed from the time I last lay my eyes upon your visage, yet my heart’s embers burn colder each moment we continue to live apart. Dare I say, I fear their glow could soon extinguish, lest we soon stare into the depths of each other’s soul ‘gain. Their fire could nary be rekindled by the heat, the light, of all the collective incendiaries fallen ‘pon Europe in these tumultuous times. However, their fire could most certainly be rekindled by a much more powerful incendiary, which, as I am presently writing, Szilárd rudely reminds me is the main purpose of my writing this letter.
But, what of bombs and wars can concern lovers? Does not the flower of a Spring’s meadow capture the soul’s eye swifter than the sword? (Some scribbles) Hi President Roosevelt, Szilárd here. Listen, comparing this weapon— that we know the Nazis are currently developing— to “a sword” is like comparing a puddle to the Pacific Ocean of puddles- that really big puddle I once saw in the lot of Long Island City’s 711– nevermind that. What I mean is, whereas a sword could kill maybe 100 people in a day, this nuclear reaction bomb could wipe out hundreds of thousands of people in the flash of an ey…(more scriblles)
Beautiful beautiful R, if perchance ye believed it in your heart that my voicing of my love for you could be subdued by Szilárd’s wrestling away of the pen fromst my hand, then surest thou had forgotten ‘bout the piano wire I always keep in my coat pocket. No more does the Serious Man restrain our passionate love. No more shall he stand in the way of our destiny. We are lovers and no amount of graphite lined uranium-235 could split us apart, figuratively.
Forget all the past follies of Szilárd. Forget all talk of Nazis and physics. Remember only our night in Paris… and the love we still share.
Yours now and tomorrow,