I envisioned Casimir writing those very words. I pictured a poignant expression on his face as he intently put his frozen heart onto paper. Yet, in the midst of the gloominess, I could imagine a flicker of hope reside in his eyes as he gently gazed out the window of his room, searching for an answer in the sky or trees. Since then, he had learned that hope was much closer than he previously thought, and he could look within himself and others to find it.
The second entry was a month later. I absorbed it eagerly and carefully.

April 5, 1989

Dear Mother,

Why do birds chirp so merrily? How can they sing so happily, despite all of the pain and suffering that goes on in the world? Sometimes, when I’m ill-humoured (which is a good deal of the time), I deem all of their noise to be quite annoying. It feels like they will never be able to share in my sorrows, until they get shot by a hunter or eaten by a cat.