I don't know anything anymore
"That night I dropped anchor in Bahia Honda and leaving at dawn I went back down the coast and anchored where we used to take shelter during the war..." I put the letter on my lap and looked out the window. I wondered why the Wizard still hadn't been able to explain to me why I was so messed up inside, why I was only happy when I wrote unhappy poems, I thought. I had taken a break from the daily pilgrimage at Danieli, which was beginning to prove uncomfortable also because it was hidden from my mother. I certainly couldn't tell her that the daughter of a friend of hers had attacked me; that when I entered an existential crisis I went to consult a seer in a hotel room and I could not deny knowing that this was forbidden by religion, even if I had set the problem aside in a corner of my conscience.
I picked up the letter again: "When I see you and I'm with you I feel I can do anything and I write better than I can write. When I'm away from you I don't give a damn. I work as best I can for Pride, which is considered. a sin but it's almost my only virtue..." At the very least he has a refuge, I thought. I don't even have that, I can't write anymore.
"I'm not a good enough writer to tell you how much I miss you. Sometimes it's so bad...
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