Do you read me?

A friend and I once wondered whether someday, when she was a famous writer and I a famous editor (as famous as editors can be, at any rate), people would pore over our correspondence. At that point it was just email.

Since then, our lives have taken decidedly different paths. We still write, but we don't write each other. I follow her life through her writing, and she does the same through mine. This isn't necessarily a sad thing; it's just a fact.

Today I was thinking about this bizarre blogging world and wondered whether one day scholars will hunt for the hidden correspondence in it.