Dear S.,

Of course I could send you an email but I can't live without the smell of the paper being written with an old paint, black, bright. There's something new happening in this mind that I can call mine once a while. I don't know if is safe to tell you through this letter... I need to think more about this subject before start to talk about it. I also know that our friend is behind you trying to read my words and I don't want him knowing things that I cannot speak with him in this moment. So, let me tell you what is possible now: I am really happy here. I have friends, the food is amazing and I look great wearing these kind of clothes.

S.: my hands are entirely under the river.

Love you,

P.