on working days
looking at screens before bed
reading articles on the internet tells me this is bad for sleep
gained entrance to an archive
(“all large work seems fatally full of weakness & vulgarity (I mean my own)”)
skimming skipping screening
“Here is Ariadne in a nice little frock—Why have’nt I always written in English to you? This is me—and almost for the first time.”
This is her.
These are love letters!
A love telegram!
“Toute mon ame avec vous” Stop
the differences between aimer and lover
“we must be united a great deal closer & better than now”
Is it requited?
I had to leave Paris.
(Back in Cambridge. The spin cycle is on. “I am able to enjoy only writing down stray thoughts in my note book. […] I can sew them together taut bien que mal. But that is not real form.”)