I have not written for a long time, darling. You have only to look at the date of this letter. Yet I wanted to write more often.

It is you who have rendered me more human and consequently much more useful to the cause of humanity, than I have ever been before.

A great cloud came. And it was in the sea that I saw it come. Slowly it dispersed the ballet of pearls and with its massive body, it barred the way of the moon to the sea – it cut the luminous current of life. Everything became black.

It was during one of those days that I received the letter with the good news about Manka. I am profoundly happy to hear it. I see very clearly that you will love each other like very good sisters, very good comrades. You understand that I had a fever, so I pictured our arrival in Australia- yes, with our little Ouri – the joy, the beauty!

Everything in me revolts, everything harms me, my heart beats too quickly, the blood rises to my head, because I want you near me, very near – and you are far away.

As far as we are concerned, the proverb “everything in its place” is ridiculous. You are everywhere and always. A heart with drawers (coeur-aux-tiroires) doesn’t exist. That is no longer a heart.

Oh Yvette, so much loved, the so much desired, I am compelled by the men, by the war, by fascism, to deceive you cruelly and deceive myself!