Franz Kafka - Letters to Milena (1)

The Talkative Crow reading one of Franz Kafka's letters to Milena.

Dear Frau Milena

The rain which has been going on for two days and
one night has just now stopped, of course probably
only temporarily, but nonetheless an event worth
celebrating, which I am doing by writing to you.
Incidentally the rain itself was bearable; after all,
it is a foreign country here, admittedly only
slightly foreign, but it does the heart good. If my
impression was correct (evidently the memory of
one single meeting, brief and half-silent, is not to
be exhausted), you were also enjoying Vienna as a
foreign city, although later circumstances may
have diminished this enjoyment, but do you also
enjoy foreignness for its own sake? (Which might
be a bad sign by the way, a sign that such
enjoyment should not exist.)

I’m living quite well here, the mortal body could
hardly stand more care, the balcony outside my
room is sunk into a garden, overgrown and covered
with blooming bushes (the vegetation here is
strange; in weather cold enough to make the
puddles freeze in Prague, blossoms are slowly
unfolding before my balcony), moreover this garden
receives full sun (or full cloud, as it has for almost
a week) - lizards and birds, unlikely couples, come
visit me: I would very much like to share Meran
with you, recently you wrote about not being able
to breathe, that image and its meaning are very
close to one another and here both would find a
little relief.

With cordial greetings,
F Kafka