Open Letter: You don't know me at all. Twenty-something years ago, I felt inspired by your acumen, your unique perspectives on the world and your charm. It's with heaviest regret that I haven't been able to finish the screenplay I wrote for you. However, I've liked to think you'd appreciate how I've used it to develop my own dream of becoming a professional screenwriter. The profound elements in it have remained from outline to outline. I haven't felt it had a strong enough plot or life events hindered me. That may sound like poor, sad excuses to you. You don't owe me anything. We don't know each other at all. You were certainly extraordinarily brave to go out to NYC on barely nothing. I think the reason I never did the same after college graduation - though I truly wanted to - was lack of resources. You may say it's no excuse. Perhaps I was too cautious. I've wished I could share my insights into true Kabbalah. Growing up Jewish, I had been fascinated by it since college. It would be wonderful to show you how to read the texts in their original language. I don't know if Kabbalah is still even a study you're interested in.