Jun 12, 2025
Now, my dear love, words no longer have any meaning and I can't think of anything to say to you. To throw myself into your arms, against you, and stay there, that's the only thing I feel capable of doing. So I wait for you. My bed awaits you, the rosebushes, the virgin vines await you. Angeles smiles and becomes all beautiful as soon as we speak of your return. I, my dearest love, would like to stay still until then, even hold my breath not to break this growing hope in me, this upheaval you bring me. I love you.
Maria Casarès to Albert Camus, Correspondance, March 23, 1950 [#267]
