"You are lovely… and all your letters, too, are lovely." Bits from Vladimir Nabokov's letters to his wife, Véra, that make me believe in real love. 🦋
Europe
Joined July 2019
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18 June, 1926 (Berlin)
How annoying that you have had such bad luck with the weather! It’s just terrible! How can one get better this way. I am awfully sad.
30 June, 1926 (Berlin)
My little one, how are you doing? I love you. The sky is starry now, with a warm wind blowing.
Hi everyone, I’m the girl running this account. I’m doing something a little special here. I started a Substack, with the mission to figure out what love is. Since we’re all yearners, it may be right up your alley. My first post. Please be kind! substack.com/home/post/p-187…
💌 I’m trying to post every Thursday. My second most pressing question, after what is love: how do you even write about it? Thanks for reading! open.substack.com/pub/lovein…
💌 Well, life burst forth, and weekly posting didn’t happen. But I’m still trying. My third post: how do you come to terms with losing love? Thanks for reading! open.substack.com/pub/lovein…
7 June, 1939 (London)
My love, why don’t you write to me? You can always write a couple of words. Pas gentil.
17 June, 1926 (Berlin)
I am going to bed, Mosquittle. I so much want you to be happy. Good night, my darling, my tenderness, my happiness.
26 June, 1926 (Berlin)
I love you, my little one, my happiness. Good night. The day seems to be breaking. The sky is green.
13 June, 1936 (Berlin)
My darling, try to lie a little in the sun. When exactly will you come back? I love you.
28 June, 1926 (Berlin)
You know, sometimes it seems to me that only now do I understand how I love you and how happy we are together...
17 April, 1939 (London)
I cannot live without you. This last week, beginning from today, is torture. I want to go home, to my own corner, my energy is running dry, I’m wildly tired, I can’t stand it anymore.