... Since I arrived in London or more exactly since I left Morocco, I have only received one letter from you, However ever since it arrived, I seized every opportunity to reread it, letting myself be lulled by the sweet musical tonality of the words contained therein. I see in it a personification of the jovial being that you are. I am in your company as if it was you that was with me and I burn with yearning that another letter is en route to alleviate the nostalgic burden and painful solitude that overwhelm me. Above all, do not let yourself be seduced by the notion that I will leave you with my impressions on the tours I had in London. I can assure you that only the eyes but not the heart roamed the sites and curiosities of this city. My heart goes out much further and is at the (same) spot I described to you in another letter before this one.

I spent the whole day of Friday in the city of Birmingham visiting the "British Industrial Fair," and, in particular, the wing of the fair reserved for printing equipment. That evening upon my return (home) I was welcomed by a bundle of letters that I flipped through before landing on a letter from you which I hastened to open with as much impatience as excitement. However, after reading hardly a few lines I felt something like shock and almost fell down backwards, no longer aware of my surroundings and finding it difficult to respond to those speaking to me. I could not recall who had sent me the other letters and had no further thoughts about dinner. I went outside into the glacial night, my mind agitated, not aware where my steps were taking me, not seeing what paraded before my eyes and not paying any attention to what I was hearing. Oh but how sweet was your letter! Oh how enjoyably suave were your reprimands in spite of their dry tone that made it difficult for me to bear and condemned me to wander about and traverse the four corners of the city without feeling the slightest fatigue.

... Did you know that your letter takes the place of the Koran which I recite in the depths of the night, as the calm spreads across the night air and human beings fidget in drunken sleep. I read it early in the morning while workmen headed to their jobs, the students to their schools, teachers to their classes and the merchants to their shops. I read it when I was on the train and bus. I read it when I walked in the midst of lively crowds. Once I almost was run over without being aware that death was only a half step away, not knowing if the bliss that awaited me in the other world equaled that I felt after opening your letter last evening. I will not respond to the letter. However I plan to reread it not only during my stay in this city but also when I am by your side. Each time I read it, the reply bursts out of my heart and my soul begins to speak to tell you that we are projections of each other. Two days ago, I had no desire for living; I didn't know what to write; I was unable to express the psychological distress that overwhelmed me ever since I understood that my letter had not reached you. It is difficult for me to share with you the thoughts running through my mind or to describe to you the suffocating atmosphere in which I am engulfed. In either case, I am unable to see clearly the feelings evoked to express them. It should therefore be easy given my state to validate Einstein's theory (of relativity) from purely a circular psychological perspective. Both situations strangely resemble two parallel lines that intersect at a finite point in the world that simple minded folks like us would call infinity.