An annotation on the collection of Fresh Air
I wrote to her: my dear, this time, during which I am deprived of seeing you, I had the opportunity of thinking about you a lot. The flowers in my home remind me of you. I approach my face to their leaves as if you are here besides me. This collection is the upshot of quarantine days as a limitation to ordinary situations of life. And also a mourning for our loss, losing every second.