"My dearest Twinka, I hate this period of easterly winds, which brought Hilda the flu and Maurice a cheek as swollen as a melon. Perhaps it's the easterly wind that's also brought you tenants? I'm suffering my own share, which comes in the form of 'custom work.' I'm already ten days behind schedule; if I finish by the end of the week, I'll dry my tears, and we'll treat ourselves to a trip to the movies! My ambitions end there—which is already quite presumptuous. But I can't imagine any pleasant prospects without you being involved, dear Twinka, whom I haven't seen for a long time. I kiss you, I beg you not to forget me, and… I've forgotten the name of the pink wax flower! Maurice is your very respectful Maurice—who—swallowed—a—hot air balloon. Colette."