1st July 1961
My dear,
It seems like only moments have passed since the village fete. Yet, looking at the calendar, I noticed this morning that, in fact, it has been almost five days. So, I stop and think; and the time that divides us turns into eternity or merely an instant. These two sensations alternate in my heart; sometimes as one, sometimes remaining distinct. Then, depending on the moment, they become feelings of nostalgia or enthusiasm.
After so much searching, I finally found your address. I was as discreet as I could, you know, and I confess that it was not luck that helped me. Rather, it was your sister, who invited me to come forward. It was she who gave me your address.
I hope that you will be alone when you receive this letter of mine - the idea that your father might have it in his hands, before knowing whether what I feel is reciprocated, embarrasses me.
I wish to hear the postman's knock as soon as possible. Until then, I will remain like this, trapped between the fear of rejection and the joy that invades my heart.
25th July 1961
Dearest,
This is the third time I have started this letter of mine. Yet again I take a sheet of paper, dip my pen and, thinking of you, I start writing. But the more the memory of your face emerges in my mind, the less I can write. And it feels just like when we met.
I had ice cream in my hand when you invited me to dance. Watching you coming closer, I heard nothing - neither your voice nor the sound of the ice cream melting and falling on my shoes.
These days, I have often wondered whether it was all a dream or if you had come to stay. Receiving your letter filled my heart with joy.
I'm sending you a picture of mine so that you won't forget me in this wait that separates us.
I hope we'll soon have a chance to see each other again.
Until then, I'll be waiting for you.
Love,
14th November 1961
My dear,
How could - everything - be different?
Could the sun not rise, the birds not sing?
That's how I feel when I think of us. I feel destined for you, just like night follows day.
The lake has almost reached our garden, you know, and I fall asleep listening to the sound of the water weakly lapping the shore. I don't think my father could ever have imagined what would happen to this house. As for me, I feel a great bewilderment when I think about how much things have changed.
I picked some flowers and thought of you. I kept them in a book so I could preserve them. I'm going to put a couple of them in this envelope, hoping they'll stay fragrant.
Yours,
12th January 1962
My love,
I've been thinking about my parents' expression for days, you know. About when we approached my dad to talk to him - and he immediately dismissed us, sending us to mom. I smile when I think back to his crooked bewilderment.
I think he had already understood what we wanted to talk to him about - without knowing that mom had given us the same answer: "go and talk to your father". It was thus, through this misunderstanding, perhaps, that they agreed to our marriage.
I was so happy that for a couple of days I felt neither hunger nor thirst. I spend my days waiting.
Yours,
P.S. I fall asleep with your picture on my nightstand.
12th March 1962
My dear,
A few days ago I went up to the mountains to observe the panorama.
The dam seems almost finished - it scared me.
I drew it here, so that you can see it too.
What do you think about it?
I love you