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Now that's enough, I want to write you a letter not a loment. Nothing serious, just homesick for you dear, otherwise I'm healthy and my spirit low but not too abnormal. I like you dear and I don't feel like telling you other things that have not to do with you. I like very much your new fountain pen. 
You have a good time, dear?
It's an effort to write you dear, I suffer because I think of you in summer light dresses and all your amount of tenderness that I need so much and I have nothing.

Now that's enough, again. Let's write you a regular letter with news and stories. I'm fine and I love you. The life here is comfortable in the middle of hungry populations who don't realize they've lost the war. The Italians are so much confused and so many things passed over they're heads that I don't think they'll find themselves again without some bloody new things. Lots of stories I heard around and I'll tell you many during wintertime or summertime when we'll retire to bed