To my dear friend David,
Hello, I suppose you have learned that after months evading the noisy italian bar owner I cannot escape. I have decided to move to Venice, in search of more free alcohol. And i hope by the time i reach the depths of Norway I'll have drunk my liver dead. You see David, after Melissa left me i have found no greater joy other than drinking myself silly and stumbling through the small italian streets, and the even smaller ones of my heart.
I'll guess you are quite mad at my leaving our touristic trips cut short, but I hope one day you will understand.
Your good friend Stan.