The image below shows a letter, in Czech, that Hanuš Weinstein wrote after escaping from Most, adressed to the son of the Most rabbi, Heini Halberstam, known among his classmates as Halbík.
Prague, April 23, 1939
Dear Halbík!
Because I have met your mom, who gave me your highly esteemed address, my noble personality and lazy hand decided to write a letter. First please forgive me that I did not go to the train to see you off. So that you would not think I am trying to get out of it somehow, I would rather not write any excuses for that here. Here there is nothing new. Today I was with Tomik and Mata in cinema. How do you like, feel yourself in the British air? Under the Chamberlain government? I hope well.
On Saturday we had a math test. I have to tell you that without knowing it, you have hung Reiniš on my neck. You told him I was building a one lamp radio and when I met him, he kept asking me from 7 AM till 8 PM how it is being done and why it is being done and so on. So now I am continuing building my airplane.
Do they play ping-pong there? Pavel Perner goes to a gymnasium here. How is your foreign language handling doing? Nothing else new here, only that Franz Josef I. died. Would you please be so kind and send me a piece of the famous London fog? I hope at least our letters meet on the way. With best regards your friend Hanuš.
Addition: Because today in the morning your letter arrived, the dispatches of ours will not be meeting either.
How does the text written by fourteen-year-old Hanuš in 1939 differ from the letters you write today?