Something tells me that I'm about to write the longest letter of my life. To make matters a bit harder, I am not used to writing anymore. The last time I had a pencil in my hand was about nine months ago. Even then, the only thing I could use it for was to write my name down.
 

My thoughts are still unfocused and are in turmoil; nevertheless, I'll do my best to be clear and coherent. I probably won't be all that successful though, as it used to be my habit to start a new sentence even before completing the previous one. I've managed to keep my bad habits like this one, which is a cold comfort indeed, since all of the suffering I went through reinforced them a hundredfold. The one person who could help me to control them is far away, but my hope is that our travails will be over soon and we can all live our own lives again, together, in the circle of our family....
 

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