My heart's beloved,
    I am writing to you again,because I am alone and because it troubles me always to have a dialogue with you in my head,without your knowing anything about it or hearing it or being able to answer.Poor as your photograph is ,it does perform a service for me,and I now understand how even the 'Black Madonna',the most disgraceful portrait of the Mother of God,could find indestructible admirers,indeed even more admirers than the good portraits.In any case ,those Black Madonna pictures have never been more kissed,looked at,and adored than your photograph,which,although not black,is morose,and absolutely does not reflect your darling,sweet,kissable dolce face.But I improve upon the sun's rays,which has painted falsely,and find that my eyes,so spoiled by lamplight and tobacco,can still paint,not only in dream but al