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Authors: Hélène Gestern
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right now. Are you sure you don’t want to come and visit me in Ashford? Bourbaki is invited too, if his vaccinations are up to date; he can act as chaperone.
There’s another option, which may sound a little casual when you are in mourning, but here goes: would you like to join me for Christmas and New Year in Geneva? I normally go for ten days and spend Christmas with Philippe and his partner Marie. They’d be delighted to have us to stay, and you can be sure they’ll welcome you without making assumptions.
It would also be an opportunity to show you the entire collection of photographs, which I wasn’t able to do in August, and for you to have a change of scene, if you like winter walks. I know how emotionally difficult the first Christmas without one’s parents can be, and perhaps a short break in a new place would be a way of cushioning your grief.
But you probably have hundreds of friends who have already invited you to spend the holidays with them.
I came across something rather strange in the album, but I feel uncomfortable bothering you with that at present. Let me know when you feel like talking about it again.
A big hug,
Stéphane
Paris, 4 December (email)
Dear Stéphane,
I would have taken up your invitation without making assumptions, as you put it:-) The prospect of a winter break in Switzerland and going for walks in the snow would have helped lift my spirits. But I’m afraid I’ve already agreed to go to Germany for the holidays, and I can’t really get out of it. Thank you for thinking of me, though – I’m really touched. Will you be coming via Paris, like last time?
In the meantime, please do tell me what it was that piqued your curiosity. Now it’s me who’s curious.
Love,
Hélène
PS I received a reply today from the general medical council, in answer to the letter I sent them before Sylvia died. They confirm there was indeed an ophthalmologist by the name of Dr Oleg Zabvine on their books. Hepractised first at 142 Rue de la Mouzaïa between 1954 and 1959, and then at 22 Rue Marsoulan in the 12th
arrondissement
from 1959 to 1973. Vera Vassilyeva was spot on.
Ashford, 6 December 2007
Dear Hélène,
What a pity you won’t be able to join us! I would have loved to take you on some mini hikes to show you ‘our’ winter. Unfortunately, I’m flying to Geneva this time, as the Shuttle was fully booked. Much to my chagrin, I won’t be stopping off in Paris.
The thing that intrigued me – to put it mildly – was to discover the ‘twin’ of the photo that Vera Vassilyeva gave you. I found it in the album that my father made in Brittany in 1968. It is almost the identical image, taken within a few minutes, or even a few seconds of the other one. I can’t understand how it ended up there. But there is something alarming about the coincidence that made these two photos surface at almost the same time, when they had been lying forgotten for forty years in two different places, so far from each other.
All my love, and I hope to see you very soon.
Stéphane
Paris, 14 December 2007
Dear Stéphane,
How odd. I can’t think of an explanation for it either, and shan’t try to find one for the time being. If something occurs to me, I’ll let you know.
At least twenty centimetres of snow has fallen here, making Paris unusually silent; all you can hear is the muffled sound of cars crawling past and the scraping of street cleaners’ shovels clearing the pavements. The overground part of the métro is totally white. I went for a walk in the Buttes-Chaumont yesterday morning, wearing my wellies and wrapped up like an Eskimo, and I took some pictures for you. I love winter; over the years it has become my favourite season. This winter, which has blanketed my sadness, has me completely spellbound.
I need to snap out of it though, because the disruption of the last few weeks has thrown the catalogue way off schedule.
I keep putting off going to see Sylvia’s
There’s another option, which may sound a little casual when you are in mourning, but here goes: would you like to join me for Christmas and New Year in Geneva? I normally go for ten days and spend Christmas with Philippe and his partner Marie. They’d be delighted to have us to stay, and you can be sure they’ll welcome you without making assumptions.
It would also be an opportunity to show you the entire collection of photographs, which I wasn’t able to do in August, and for you to have a change of scene, if you like winter walks. I know how emotionally difficult the first Christmas without one’s parents can be, and perhaps a short break in a new place would be a way of cushioning your grief.
But you probably have hundreds of friends who have already invited you to spend the holidays with them.
I came across something rather strange in the album, but I feel uncomfortable bothering you with that at present. Let me know when you feel like talking about it again.
A big hug,
Stéphane
Paris, 4 December (email)
Dear Stéphane,
I would have taken up your invitation without making assumptions, as you put it:-) The prospect of a winter break in Switzerland and going for walks in the snow would have helped lift my spirits. But I’m afraid I’ve already agreed to go to Germany for the holidays, and I can’t really get out of it. Thank you for thinking of me, though – I’m really touched. Will you be coming via Paris, like last time?
In the meantime, please do tell me what it was that piqued your curiosity. Now it’s me who’s curious.
Love,
Hélène
PS I received a reply today from the general medical council, in answer to the letter I sent them before Sylvia died. They confirm there was indeed an ophthalmologist by the name of Dr Oleg Zabvine on their books. Hepractised first at 142 Rue de la Mouzaïa between 1954 and 1959, and then at 22 Rue Marsoulan in the 12th
arrondissement
from 1959 to 1973. Vera Vassilyeva was spot on.
Ashford, 6 December 2007
Dear Hélène,
What a pity you won’t be able to join us! I would have loved to take you on some mini hikes to show you ‘our’ winter. Unfortunately, I’m flying to Geneva this time, as the Shuttle was fully booked. Much to my chagrin, I won’t be stopping off in Paris.
The thing that intrigued me – to put it mildly – was to discover the ‘twin’ of the photo that Vera Vassilyeva gave you. I found it in the album that my father made in Brittany in 1968. It is almost the identical image, taken within a few minutes, or even a few seconds of the other one. I can’t understand how it ended up there. But there is something alarming about the coincidence that made these two photos surface at almost the same time, when they had been lying forgotten for forty years in two different places, so far from each other.
All my love, and I hope to see you very soon.
Stéphane
Paris, 14 December 2007
Dear Stéphane,
How odd. I can’t think of an explanation for it either, and shan’t try to find one for the time being. If something occurs to me, I’ll let you know.
At least twenty centimetres of snow has fallen here, making Paris unusually silent; all you can hear is the muffled sound of cars crawling past and the scraping of street cleaners’ shovels clearing the pavements. The overground part of the métro is totally white. I went for a walk in the Buttes-Chaumont yesterday morning, wearing my wellies and wrapped up like an Eskimo, and I took some pictures for you. I love winter; over the years it has become my favourite season. This winter, which has blanketed my sadness, has me completely spellbound.
I need to snap out of it though, because the disruption of the last few weeks has thrown the catalogue way off schedule.
I keep putting off going to see Sylvia’s
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