Letter to a Good Friend
Last night I wrote a letter to a Good Friend. It has been seven weeks since I have started writing my letter: many pages and lots of fragments written on the paper in Italy, while recovering from that horrible flu, and other bits written on my smartphone's notes, during my daily journeys from Paris to Alcatraz and back (I cannot handwrite properly on the train) and I had to interrupt it so many times that I feared I would have never been able to finish and to send my letter on time, but I did it and I am glad.
Most of the time I write on a whim and in a hurry, but I would rather write this way than spending hours properly seated, in the nice comfort of a desk and a chair that would make feel like I was doing homework, and I have always hated it. When I am drawing it is a whole other matter, for I obviously need to be seated at the desk.
I will draw something later.
Vera da Pozzo
19th September A. D. MMXXVI
Article and photo by me, as usual.
(C) Vera da Pozzo
(C) Italy is Mine
(C) Italy is Mine and It owes Me a Living
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