Dear Oscar,

A picture for you, dear, just a picture to while away a few idle moments.

I know that in that terrible cell you were deprived even of visual stimuli, and so I celebrate your being – and our being, Oscar, dear – with a picture to set you thinking.

There is not much to report: the world is still coronacrazy and lost in the pandemic; my diet is going well and I am growing slimmer than I have been for many a year; diversions are few and far between – a coffee with a friend, cooking some chutney, catching up with soap operas. I know all of this will mean very little to you – so very different from the life you led – with your absinthe, hashish, and opiates.

You may be interested to know that all public theatres are now closed, because people cannot be in contact with each other, and the proximity of theatre seats therefore makes it impossible for people to attend. So now your only hope for immediate existence is mediated via television or radio – instruments that relay into the home your art and artifice. No more applauding crowds, no more speeches from the balcony; I am afraid such venues are at present permanently dark.

‘The Importance Of Being …..’ – I suppose people might start to forget!

Best wishes to you, Oscar,

Algernon B. Duffoure.