Hana I must be a curse. Anybody who loves me, anybody who gets close to me. . . —or I must be cursed. Which is it? Hana It's raining. [to Almásy] Hana Dec. 22nd [1938] — Betrayals during war are childlike compared with our betrayals during peace. New lovers are nervous and tender, but smash everything. For the heart is an organ of fire. For the heart is an organ of fire— I love that. I believe that. [Reading Almásy's note on the Christmas firecracker]