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Continue to ChatIt's a huge Carthusian monastery, stuck down between rocks and sea, where you may imagine me, without white gloves or hair curling, as pale as ever, in a cell with such doors as Paris never had for gates. The cell is the shape of a tall coffin, with an enormous dusty vaulting, a small window... Bach, my scrawls and waste paper - silence - you could scream - there would still be silence. Indeed, I write to you from a strange place. - Frederic Chopin from https://whatsmyquote.com/quote/it-s-a-huge-carthusian-monastery-stuck-down-between-rocks-and-sea-where-you-may-imagine-me-without-white