Bess, I cut my hair not for pocket watches. Rick is gone now.. “We’ll always have Paris” . I am glad you are home with family. I worried myself to be true. No words to explain. To express. Nothing to warm your maritime winter. Do you see whales? Do you hear them?  the dress maker: She caught me in the shop after hours draping my own design. Something useful from childhood. No corset. The dress maker dismissed me. Our aunt seemed to expect my failure. (Is it failure? Or did I get caught? Do you think me a sinner?)  To stay here I must read the bible to Auntie and the dear never falls asleep. I drone through Leviticus and the onion skin paper is icicles. Auntie keeps a kosher kitchen. Separate cookware and utensils. Everything in duplicate depending on dairy or meat. Never the two shall meet. I’ve been here all this time. And this is my first note. I cannot apologize and because I can’t I break. Is this who I have always been? I believe I remember when we used to talk of dreaming. For all the angels and messages in Auntie’s bible. I don’t know what it says. I drone out the words. I have forgotten how I lose pace. I don’t apologize because I already feel sorry pitifully. Inside me. I never want you to know that feeling. That melancholia. Days, Ilsa B.