Have you sent the photograph of Delio to my mother, as promised? You would be doing a great kindness. She suffered a lot due to my arrest, and surely she suffers more than we imagine since it's hard in our country to accept someone going to prison without being a thief, swindler, or killer. She's been living in constant fear since the war started, with three of my brothers on the front. She often says, "My sons will be slaughtered," an expression more terrifying in Sardinian than in Italian. I don't know how to comfort her.

Dear Tania, I can't write to you; they've given me a pen that scratches the paper and forces me into finger acrobatics. I await your letters. I embrace you.