At the armies, the 22-11-15—20:30 My Dear Uncle,1 For a long time now, I have had something to tell you and today I finally dare announce it. It is a bit of a secret. This started last year, when I left for the regiment in Algeria in the month of September. Then, I had designs upon a young girl, and in our correspondence since then, the friendship that we shared in the beginning became love, so that when I left for the front I had a heavy heart.
The massive truck filled with all their worldly possessions blocks the narrow little street below entirely. Garance and Louise are at the window together, leaning against the ledge and looking down at this truck, at all the happenings surrounding it. The movers heave furniture down the ramp into the street with great difficulty. They negotiate carrying it up the curb and into the front door of the building. Every step is a heavy challenge and must be performed slowly, with discomfort. Louise would amuse herself by picturing the labor in the straining musculature of the movers, except she is too interested in the new family.