Letters to Véra

23 June, 1926 (Berlin) My love, I could finally feel the sun today. Off to bed soon.

30 June, 1926 (Berlin) My little one, how are you doing? I love you. The sky is starry now, with a warm wind blowing.

💌 Well, life burst forth, and weekly posting didn’t happen. But I’m still trying. My third post: how do you come to terms with losing love? Thanks for reading! open.substack.com/pub/loveinlond…

💌 I’m trying to post every Thursday. My second most pressing question, after what is love: how do you even write about it? Thanks for reading! open.substack.com/pub/loveinlond…

Hi everyone, I’m the girl running this account. I’m doing something a little special here. I started a Substack, with the mission to figure out what love is. Since we’re all yearners, it may be right up your alley. My first post. Please be kind! substack.com/home/post/p-18…

7 June, 1939 (London) My love, why don’t you write to me? You can always write a couple of words. Pas gentil.

23 June, 1926 (Berlin) Long bird of paradise with the precious tail,

10 June, 1939 (London) It’s time to start the new book. And to kiss you, my enchantment.

17 June, 1926 (Berlin) I am going to bed, Mosquittle. I so much want you to be happy. Good night, my darling, my tenderness, my happiness.

20 June, 1926 (Berlin) My life, It’s been raining all day.

26 June, 1926 (Berlin) Pupuss (a little cross between a puppy and a kitten),

26 June, 1926 (Berlin) I love you, my little one, my happiness. Good night. The day seems to be breaking. The sky is green.

13 June, 1936 (Berlin) My darling, try to lie a little in the sun. When exactly will you come back? I love you.

28 June, 1926 (Berlin) You know, sometimes it seems to me that only now do I understand how I love you and how happy we are together...

30 December, 1923 (Prague) My love, you know, I'm simply very bored without you.

17 April, 1939 (London) I cannot live without you. This last week, beginning from today, is torture. I want to go home, to my own corner, my energy is running dry, I’m wildly tired, I can’t stand it anymore.

22 June, 1926 (Berlin) My joy, floridithy, owlthy, lovethy, my love.

8 April, 1970 (Taormina) I won’t write on this foolishly thin paper again, it all shines through.

28 June, 1926 (Berlin) My sweet, I love you... I am going to write a little story. Or maybe a poem. Will I get a letterlet tomorrow?

8 July, 1926 (Berlin) My sweet and multicoloured Roosterkin,