Dear Mother,
I write to you this day because I need your advice and to ask you a question. When Father told you about his real work, how did you react? Were you scared or did you love him all the same? I ask you this because I have met someone here in Constantinople. Her name is Sofia, Sofia Sorto she is a bookseller in the poor district she is … well how can I describe her without sounding like some romantic fool? Suffice to say caro madre that she truly completes me. She has a thirst to spread knowledge to the poor of the Byzantine Empire. Truly an admirable goal wouldn't you agree and similar in a way to what I do. Which brings me to my next point, Mother how can I tell her about who I am about what I am?
It is beginning to tear me apart every time she asks about the injuries I have acquired on my travels throughout the city and I have to lie. Did you know when I first walked into her shop she assumed I was a scholar because of my clothing? I can't seem to tell her, every time I come close I back out because if she rejects me it may be the last straw. I have lost much Mother, our family, Cristina, a normal life are all but gone at this point. I can't and won't lose her. Please write soon
Ezio