Letter to Bella XIII - Wonderlandish

Dear Bella,

you may have received my postcard and my letter for the past few weeks. If there's a drop of bitterness in my delirious enthusiasm (among the good friends, brioches, artichokes, extremely light meals, shop windows, ravishing men, and all the other things that cannot be listed and described) it is because Mom, Dad and my bro cannot be here with me now. My brain is numb as you know, and I struggle to get out each word. So forgive my lack of phone calls....I'm not a good friend, am I? However I'm not in so bad a condition that I can't thank you for asking. I've been reading a lot and throwing things away, focused in a task at a time, and trying not to think about other things. It's so difficult to be part of my conscious on having one step at a time and not be thinking about what is my next painting gonna be? Or what should I write on my book next? Or where I'm gonna find money to afford more fabric? Or when I'll be able to take a break and have some vacation away from this land. Or what is Amanda doing next at her Wonderlandish.....oh if u could describe. It's a fine location.

My fashionland is in good shape..I published a few posts at B'aires new weblog. It's going well, and I might be writing weekly for the next (hopefully) many months. It's called southamericandesign.wordpress.com and you better check that out. I'll appreciate your criticism. I think you'll like the articles, they will soon start to come at a shorter intervals.
All the other facts are stable for now..If only I could pull myself together and get the hang of the French language. It's still a struggle, not so much that writing but speaking...I just have not yet found anyone who could speak with me. And I can't afford to take classes so I self-teach and talk with the walls. I've been to a couple of interviews and I can't say all...but something is on my way that I'm ready to accept and flip my house of cards. When my designs will come to life?...I assure you in this life. And then you can say...."I'm ready to face the world". I can draw with my finger lately, an invisible sketch in the air...and after twenty minutes lost in this insanity I can start turning into something that you've never even imagined. I can't hold a pencil in weeks now...what does it mean?...think James Bond via Hong Kong.

I'm not worried about anything for the time being, go with the flow is the dilemma, and walk around the Garden and even saying a prayer.

This morning I was invited to coffee, and last night Phil gave me a Salvador Dali's "bible". I can't wait to start taking lessons with Dali...from a book. I know that nobody else can experience this - not even Dad, despite all his goodwill. Only on my worst moments have I seen Gringolandia, the age and the people, with the eyes of a warrior examining the land before a battle. But I feel strongly that this is the only possible place for me, the only place where it wouldn't seem comical were I to stand. And I'll try to cultivate the values that elsewhere I haven't thought worthwhile even to reveal. Only Paris can be the arena for this. I could come and go like an old citizen and feel completely at home. The same applies to my room, which is entirely satisfactory.

I bestow (new word learned..YAY) my gratitude upon you for what you've done for me.

much lov.

a.