Dear Hannah,
I’m writing to you from my sofa, staring at the ceiling. Like most ceilings, it is painted white.
I’m aware that the following request is restricted for you at the moment, which makes me hesitant.
Still, if you could make your way to the sea in the coming days, can I have a look at the waves and the horizon, take a deep breath of sea air?
It might be the thing I long for most.
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