I expect an answer like a woman her sailor. It has already been three months since the boat left and, although there were some fears, there is nothing to weaken hope. In the meantime, you have to work, live your days. In any case, when the news comes in, or when the ship docks, work will resume, the days will become days again.
No matter what the result of the fishing, it will be necessary to repair the nets, welcome the exhausted man, offer him his heart, let him attack you as only loneliness makes vindictive and indelicate.
No matter if the novel arrives safely or not, if it comes back to me empty-handed or its holds full of promises, I will welcome it; it will rest, recover its strength, and sail again.
This morning, I saw trees dreaming of Cocteau.