Au courrier

Mon cher Yves-Noel,

j'espere que tout va bien! Monica contracted a bad case of poison ivy, no doubt during our walk along the Canal. Both her hands and arms are covered in blisters, and the itching is driving her mad.

We miss your company in the evenings around the dinner table. Now that you're gone even Max looks up from his books: Is he coming back? Not that you ever really acted for us... Next times it's charades for you.

Leo has been going to school, though dragging his feet. Every day we have to run to catch the bus.

Je t'embrasse,
M.