Dear Julian,
morning Jorge has confirmed to me that you left Barcelona in pursuit of your illusions. I always feared that those dreams would you be mine forever prevented or anyone else. I would have liked to see you one last time, look into your eyes and tell you what I can not entrust to the paper. None of our projects has been successful. I know you too well and I know that I write, I do not even send your address, you'll want to become someone else. I know you hate me because I was not where I promised to be. You will think that I cheated. I did not have courage.
I've often imagined that train, alone, to brood over my betrayal. What you have told lies about me, Julian? Because you have believed?
Now that I've lost, I know I lost everything. Nevertheless, I can not let you disappear forever from my life and forget me not knowing that you do not Serbian resentment, that from the beginning I felt that I'd lose and that you would never see in me what I saw in you . I want you to know that I loved you from day one and continue to love you, now more than ever, even if you do not want to hear that.
[...] I do not know if my words will come, but if it will be and decide to come back for me, you will find a way to do it. As I write, I imagine you on that train, with your wealth of dreams and broken heart, fleeing from all of us and yourself. There are so many things I can not tell you, Julian. Things that both unaware and which is better that you remain ignorant.
My greatest wish is that you are happy, Julian, that all they aspire to become a reality and that, even if I forget, one day you'll understand how much I loved you.
Forever yours,
Penélope
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