"Mihai, my old friend,
May Lord be praised: I have finally heard from you.
I had already come to think you dead and I cured my languishing with some memories we used to share. I kept on pondering of the days when you were around, together with those damned Augura, Conta and some others – yes, you, who are now strutting all around the capital, along with the flunkies! The hell with them! (Because they are indeed Old Gooseberry's sons, you know!) As for you, my friend: may luck and prosperity be on your side!
Why do you let Veronica a prey to grim thoughts? I was waiting for you over Christmas but... Well, about this I am scolding less and making a mess, as I cannot say yes! Therefore, your promise was gone, just like a puff of smoke in the sun, and you have never came. Well done! Anyway, we had a long Turkish Bairam with exquisite Greek wine from Amira. There were also Ienachescu, Raceanu and several other companions, forever willing to share a good meal and booze.
Then we went out of town by a sledge and there we were! Back to the spread again! Next day was just the same. No sooner than the third day did we fly back home like some crammed sparrows.
Now I am sitting near the chimney together with my cats and I am trying rather hard to put my thoughts in a semblance of order.
I hear you are all the time fighting those politicians in your journal Timpul. What could possibly have happened to you, to make you so warlike?
(Translated by Junona Tutunea)
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