Daisy Love Letter
Dear Diary,
Mr. Gatsby’s party was everything that I had expected it to be; extravagant, but all the same its just mindless entertainment. I believe that I was one of the few people actually invited to the party. I received my invitation early Saturday morning. In the invitation Gatsby asked me to join his small gathering that evening, and that he had been meaning to meet me. I knew that my neighbors party was going to be quite excessive because I have taken notice to all the preparation that goes into them, as well as the after math clean-up. I walked across to his home to see his colossal garden covered in lights, a fully catered buffet table, a bar in full swing stocked with gins and liquors, and an orchestra acquit with: oboes, trombones, saxophones, viols, cornets, and piccolos. Everyone who is anyone is attending this Saturday night party, laughter fills the air, and groups of people come and go; although my host was nowhere to be found. It seems that isn’t out of the ordinary though. I spoke to a number of people and most said that they had never seen and/or met Mr. Gatsby and they know nothing about him. Rumors were in constant circulation of our host; he killed a man, grew up in Germany, or was in the American army. After I heard all this hearsay I was determined to meet Jay Gatsby, and finally I did. The information I received from him through our brief conversation was that he was in the Seventh Infantry, he lived in the small wet vicinities of France for a short time, and he had just purchased a hydro-plane. Though these facts came from his own mouth something about him made me question him, and want to find out more about him. He asked me to meet him at nine tomorrow morning to go hydroplaning, and I may just go; for the simple fact I want to know more.
-Nick Carraway
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