It’s been almost two months since I last heard from you. I’m not asking you what’s wrong because I know what is. And what is not. They say things will be back to normal after a week. Let’s hope so. You don’t know how important a letter is to every one of us. When we go out to exercise, you can tell right away who received a letter and who didn’t. An unusual glow lights up the faces of the first, even if they often try to keep from showing how happy they are, so as not to depress those who weren’t as lucky. During the last few weeks, for obvious reasons, we all had long faces and that’s not good either. So I have no answer to any of your questions simply because I’ve had no questions from you. But I have some for you. Not the kind you can readily guess without my having to ask them, and I don’t like to ask anyway, so as not to tempt you into telling me (in a joking or, even worse, in a serious tone): “Not anymore.” I just wanted to ask about the Old Man. He hasn’t written to me for quite some time. And in this case I’m under the impression that there’s no special reason for not receiving letters. It’s just that he hasn’t written in a long time. And I don’t know why. Sometimes I go over (only in my mind, of course) the things I remember writing to him in some of my short notes but I don’t believe I’ve said anything in them to hurt his feelings. Do you see him often? Another question: how is Beatriz doing in school? In her last letter, I seemed to detect something vague about some things she said. Do you realize how much I miss you? Despite my ability—and it’s considerable—to adjust, being without you is one of those things neither my mind nor my body has been able to grow used to. At least not so far. Will I get used to this? I don’t think so. Have you?
the rest
Montevideo te amo. on Flickr.
edition I just made