To Connie

Dear Connie,

I have just received your postcard, the one that you hand-draw by yourself. The doorman had it in his hand, ready to give it to me when I came out of the elevator. He must have seen me coming, through the camera inside the elevator.

If you had a chance to visit me, you will see that's my life here. Still wearing the same "Almost Famous" shirt with my favorite baggy jeans. The one that I bought in Tel Aviv. I thought I would not have a chance to wear it so much in Brazil since summer here would be hot. To my surprise, some summer days in Brazil are cool, like today.

I lived on the 7th floor. I go inside and out of the apartment by myself every day, with my huge pink water bottle that I bought when I was in China. She has been useful in Brazil since you need to pay for water every where you go here.

Due to my limited Portuguese, my conversation with the doorman has always been only: Hola, bom dia, and Tchau. Sometimes when I thought about how hard it was for me to speak Portuguese, I felt sorry about how much effort I am asking those people who work at restaurants and cafes, to put in for me, to try to speak English with me. It must have been difficult for them as well.

I caught a glimpse of your first sentence as I walked out of the apartment:" yo, I miss you."

I need a proper place to read your card. So I held your card in my hand as I walked past the streets that I have walked a million times by now.

This is the way to the nearest subway station, as well as the nearest shopping mall where inside has a good cafe that I go often, it is called: Le Pain Quoidien.

I walked past a street stall, where I bought my cheap backpack to Rio so that I looked poor enough that no one would bother to steal my stuff. The boy inside the stall asked for my WhatsApp that day and I said no. So to avoid him, I pretended to be reading your card as I was passing by. I glanced at the first paragraph. I smiled. A pep talk from Connie.

Though I wish you had told me more about your life now, how everything had been, it was still good to have a pep talk from you on a Saturday morning. Actually, it was just good to see your handwriting, to see something familiar.

I saw the line: "I need to see you. Its been too long" when I was on the escalator inside the shopping mall, going up to the cafe to have my lunch. I put the card down again and kept walking. I thought my eyes were a bit moist. Indeed, it has been too long.

I have never told you guys about this. When in Brazil, the thought of suicide came to my mind several times. This thought caught me by surprise because nothing has been wrong in Brazil. I met friends, I have stuff to do and after lunch, I need to go teach English at a place that is one and half hour away from the city center.

It is a famous favela and used to be the one of most dangerous places on earth rated by the BBC, but not anymore. Government has down alot to change that place. Another French girl from my school who also teaches was still scared to go there alone. For me, 0 problem.

I teach there every Saturday. I generally spent more time preparing my lectures and personalized my lectures, but today, I was just too tired. I just got back from Peru last night and I have been getting up at 3 am in the morning 3 days in a roll while I was in Peru.

You must are scared by me mentioning suicide. This scared me too. I had no intention to do so but this thought was like a Nessie, it just appeared from the water out of nowhere and disappeared again.

I thought of the girl that our program coordinator mentioned as I am writing this. She was an exchanged student to Brazil and killed herself during Carnival. No one knew why and no one had seen that coming since everything had been good with her. Maybe there was no reason.

I thought of the thought I had as I was showering this morning. I was thinking about Camus's book, the Plague. Toward the end of the book, Camus gave a monologue to one of the characters. The character claimed that he had experienced the Plague long before he came to this town where the plague took place.

He claimed that everyone in their life is fighting against some kind of plague. Not a physical one, but a mental one. Was this an observation from Camus? Or was Camus fighting his own plague when he was writing this?

When I read through your card, I thought maybe I just miss things that I'm familiar with, or things that give me sentimental attachment. Like you wrote on the first page: " It isn't the mountain ahead to claim that wears you out. It's the pebble in your shoes."

How true. If a person has nothing left to miss or to looking forward to in this world, how easy would that be to just kill oneself. It would have been as easy as going for lunch. Nonetheless, I'm all good in general. I must go now otherwise I would be late to my teaching if I have not been late already.

I just checked my phone and my only CEMS friend has just messaged me and asked if I was back from Peru. I think I might go out with her after teaching today. Actually, I am gonna move to her place and live with her starting next week. So, don't worry about me.

Chat another time.

Miss you,

Linda

- March 23rd, 2019 @ Le Pain Quotidien on Paulista