21st July, 1915

My little mouse! Though I am going to write only a few lines today, I still want to give some flavour to the early morning by having a little chat with you. It is exactly 6am, at your end of the world it is 10 at night and perhaps you are still awake. I am now quite angry again for receiving no mail. Everybody is receiving it, only I have not had anything from you in the last 14 days and from Troppau I have not had anything at all. Although, due to my peculiar pessimism, I keep convincing myself that from Troppau I can expect only disagreeable news, I am waiting for them anxiously.

My God, one has to be prepared for everything. How many are there whom one will not encounter again, after a lucky return to one's dear home! I am prepared, but must Viktor and Hugo be among them? How is my dear father, how is Gustl? You see, these are cruel thoughts. And such thoughts are not too infrequent. They always come between painful yearning, grief or heartache. But fie! That’s not the way I want to talk to you, it could make you sad. Therefore, let us keep it very short today. Thousand kisses.

© The estate of Otto Feldmann: Monica Lanyado, Tzafrah Shushan and Aya Shochat