Dear surrogate mother,

Dear surrogate mother*, first, excuse me for my english : I was raised in France, as you know, and it’s not the right country to learn good foreign languages. As you remember, I hope, I was in your belly during eight months and some dust (french expression), and my real mother picked me as soon as I get out of you, that’s why you have not been introduced to me. My parents are very jealous of you and act as if I was normally created by them.  If I write to you, it’s not to bother you, it’s just to know what kinf of music you  used to listen when you were pregnant of me. Cause my parents are always playing Rostro, Bach, Mozart and Bix Beiderbecke.  And sometimes Guy Marchand (a french singer). Then, when I hear  Susan Vega, specially the first one, I feel a deep, deep, nostalgy as if I were an orphan. Can you tell me too if you used to eat shrimps. Same sensations. Thank you very much.
PS : My parents are not very funny, I should have prefered to stay with you, whoever you are. Love, Wenceslas (that name !).
* mère porteuse

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