Dear Penelope,
You can have no idea how difficult it is for me to write these words, but we must accept that it is over between us: Swimming naked in the waters of the old harbor, off the side your family's yacht; The days at the races; nights at the opera; the long autumn afternoons watching Marx Brother's movies in the media room of your family's winter estate in The Hamptons; the countless visits I made to you at Betty Ford.
Yes, I'll always cherish the times I imagined we spent together.
Regards,
Anton
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