Black box of love letters

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Justice Rye

I had the opportunity to receive a few letters, and I even had friends who occasionally sent letters from distant lands until the epidemic began. Then our letters somehow became e-mails. I guess I can never write long e-mails on the phone because I consider e-mails to be like a letter. Maybe a new age telegram messaging app. No matter what form they take, whether they come to us or to someone else, are letters always the most private, mostly private area, like a small window? Are we not only interested in the letters of the writers, but also in the letters of our elders? The letter is always marked with love, because love takes one’s breath away and writing to a lover cures the sufferings of the lover somewhat.

The book in front of me consists of letters written between the 1930s and 1944 by Antoine de Saint-Exupery, author of The Little Prince, and her boyfriend, Consuelo de Saint-Exupery. The book begins with a detailed letter from the translator Gizem Olkay, who translated it from French origin. I am grateful to the translator who has tried to preserve the originality of the language of two different people and has brought that spark between them into our language.

I would like to go into much detail about the lives of Consuelo De Saint-Exupéry and Antoine De Saint-Exupéry, but I cannot do that because of the limited space in this article. The Consuelo is the Little Prince’s lantern flower, which symbolizes the rose to us. It is both heaven and hell. They broke up many times during their relationship and reunited each time, marrying in 1931. They are connected to each other by an inviolable, inviolable diseased bond; That bond is actually their healing that keeps them alive. Their correspondence continued until Antoine disappeared in 1944. Antoine’s plane, which had joined the U.S. Army as a captain and flew to North Africa, crashed at Marseille on July 31, 1944. The wreckage was discovered by fishermen in 2000.
When you start reading letters, you can’t help but feel sorry for the past and wonder why present loves have come to this stage. Addressing each other is not the language of today; The letters begin with my child, my little one, my beloved, my treasure, my golden pen… and much more, romantic on the one hand and romantic on the other. To share and let the world know, they carry it on their backs and reflect it on their lines, they become a family with their letters.

These letters, which shed light on Antoine’s writing career, were published at the request of Consuelo. The two artists did not live a luxurious life at that time, but they lived in rented houses all over the world, constantly and constantly moving around. Therefore, they are forced to share their mail address repeatedly. They send telegrams with existing systems on ships and planes in terms of time.

Of course, these letters do not always express love, they sometimes express anger, separation and resentment. Every time an apology is made, love that begins with a letter ends with a small talk and a letter that begins again. “I am terrified of being exiled from the heart,” Consuelo wrote in a letter. Of course, there are friends who have witnessed all of this. At the beginning of World War II, his friends from a world of art and literature were also the subject of letters.

In this letter a free-spirited woman and a man are trying to keep all the attention they expect. Perhaps this selfishness of Antoine’s military service and the main purpose of his life was to survive. The fact that he wrote The Little Prince in all these war situations is another testimony of that time. Consul also confirms that his girlfriend is alive and continues writing.

The book contains 160 letters that passed from one lover to another between 1930-1944, including pictures of the couple’s telegrams, cards, drawings and letters sent to each other, as well as remnants of long mourning. After the disappearance of a woman who wants to gradually replace destructive love with constructive and productive. With this feature, the book is like a black box that fell into the sea with a lover’s plane.

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