A letter between a Rivaly

Sometimes it is as though life is essentially a hoard of spinning birds, all conglomerated into a busy maniacal monstrosity, with a few perks. One of which is the color ratio, which is constantly in a state of flux and flow. Another good thing is the sound of it all, which is quite deafening, but also very inspiring, much like an impressive shout of some foreign anacronism into your ear.
I, as a miniscule observable in this whole mess, have concluded that being a bird watcher, or some watcher thereof, is essentially like being a philosopher, in that you are dealing with the same medium.
Kindly rebuke me, Mister Kiela, if you can find it in your cold and shrivled heart to even respond to my drivel, or as you have so famously referred to it, "the never ending seep of verbal ik" that I so brazenly toss about.
Regards,
Loois Feldt