Above: a page from one of the first letters ever written on the first typewriter: Carolina Fantoni's essay 'The Winter', which she sent to Turri sometime after he created the machine for her.

Below: two loose translations of Carolina's writing, by Kate Barrette: "The Winter" essay, and a fragment of a letter Carolina wrote to Turri about her upcoming marriage.

The Winter

The hours of the day are short, and those of the night are very long, and between one and the other it feels a terrible storm. It's late when one sees the sun rise, and then, from the mountain, the splendid but tired sun jumps up.. its warmth provides so little heat that it doesn't have the strength to destroy the icicles, only to break them.

As soon as it's at the point of its greatest warmth, it slowly starts to disappear. Then, all of the mountains that surround us are discovered, seen in the distance as white snow that soon we will have also under the pines. Normally, the nightmarish countryside shows us nothing more than stripped trees and fallen leaves, resting on the plants which maintain their green color even in the most infertile places. Then the primrose plant opens, the ones which always preserve their leaves despite the fruit that is dispersed by the unpleased wind..

1809 30 July

What a surprise will come ot you in reading this paper. I find myself near the time of verifying my previous actions. I believe I'm getting closer to having to take this terrifying step, a think that I have wanted despite the fear.

You know that I have accepted the marriage, with the agreement of my family. But you know, how reflective I am, you yourself can imagine how horrible my agitation. In the next few days, they must settle the remainder of the formalities.

I need your assistance and we have always had so much goodness between us. Please don't abandon me in a situation that is so important..

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