He replied. As ever in these things, the rude and ill-educated Englishman could only use his own language, while his correspondent, hailing from Portugal, managed an exuberant form of a language not her own.
As the correspondence developed, it transpired that the images Srta. G had selected were identical to his own personal favourites.
The exchange continued with growing harmonic resonances.
The final phrase in the Senhorita's message read as follows:
"Maybe one day your soul can rest embraced by mine."
How can the day not promise joy when it begins with such a sentiment?
1 comment:
and one month after:
In secret we met -
In silence I grieve
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee? -
With silence and tears.
Lord Byron
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