All together and all at once. I was calling. I was calling. I was calling but you didn't see. A moment. Hope for another day. A golden dream appears again built out of ols socks. It can hardly last. It can hardly even bear observation. Time after time it will fail. I saw you before and I have seen you again. A pair of long black lace gloves preceded you. They were smaller than they had to be, so it really made no differencee. Somehow it is possible that travelling very fast means you are not really anywhere at all. Somebody called me by name but it wasn't a face I remember. But she greeted me warmly amd walked on. It was all very peculiar, and peculiar things come in threes, so we are one sex short. Plants in pots start, grow to their limit, and then stop. That is all they can do. Why are there always so many who want more. The apricot trees by the front door grow more and more decrepit with every passing year until one day they will be replaced with something more suitable. Perhaps a line of flowering cherries would do it. It will shortly be possible to live life once removed. At a distance. Another place another time.
Because Gerald and Jenny have arrived back from Portugal I was woken up early thius morning. They woke me up to see if I had heard from Gerry. Gerry is back from Portugal as well but I haven't yet heard from him. I am sure I will shortly. The telephone always rings. It was nice to hear her voice again and it will be nice to see her too. Then there was another person who had't heard from anybody else and who wasn't able to be anywhere because she is allergic. So she speaks to people on the telephone nd tyries to keep in touch. The one who had been really busy is still pushing all over. The one who as usual wasn't going to be where she expected or do what she expected. There is a man like that as well. I am generally quite sure that he will not be where he has said he will be, and the more useful it would be if he was there, the less chance there is that he will be. All these people sit in a circle. Preferring the floor to the offered chairs. One was probably shy and one was strange before are both easier to meet now. She is so careful with her image that it would be impossible to reach down inside her to see her any more. It could all be dealt with at the surface. There is nothing that could go any deeper. Is there a need to hide. Yes there is a need to hide. Is there an image to build. Yes there is an image to build. Yes, it is a powerful image. Now I can understand it. It all gets easier as time goes on. Images can be reduced in size. They can be brought back down. You can change who you are but you cannot change who you are.
Walking these cobbled streets I remember Reading. The protection of Reading by the devoted. There is another one here that would be worth knowing as a friend. It is strange how that happens. It isn't very often. It is written in the face. In the eyes. I remember mostly. So here it is written in the face. There was all so much. All at once. Pieces falling into place. Among these faces it all falls into place. So here is a change in organisation. A change in a diary. A change in all things. There is still time. See the light. See the light slit the picture. The light that was caught in the oil caught again in the slits in the canvas. See the knife that released the light. See it lying there. See the light slit the night. All it is is all it is. No more. There is no room for more. No less. There is no room for less. See it all flow into the oil. You really believe you can ever repair this? This is what is happening and now it is the past. You can't even properly record it it but you think you can repair it again. Where did you learn to see. Certainly not with this light. This slitting light. Open your eyes and think of England.