To you... yes, you alone, and although I do not know you and you do not know me either; to your kind heart I send my peace, and to your innocent soul my soul writes; I write to the purity of your heart and your excessive spontaneity, I write to the sadness that has been lurking inside you for a long time, I write to your beautiful eyes filled with worry and pain, I write to your silence and the fragmentation of your soul and the heaviness of the days in your heart, I write to you like a hand patting your shoulder, and a voice aged with balloons of sorrow, and a confession interspersed with whispers as a consolation for your feelings, so be prepared to be well, and be close to my thoughts, for it is for you that I wrote them and confided them, for between love and sadness “something of you is here, or perhaps all of you...!”