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As I walk around the house I look for your things, I realize you don't have but very few personal things around, your paintings are practically all away (I have your self portrait on wall above radio), your laundry, dresses, all away. I opened the chest in which you keep the hand made stuff from Bagdad (that's how I call Rumania [[Romania]] now). Beautiful things. I'll look around more to find things of yours I must be a bit of a fetishist in top of everything else. 
Goodbye darling dear dear dear, your husband who loves you, Saul

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