18 June 1922

Hotel d'Angleterre, Montana-sur-Sierre, Switzerland

It is very nice here, remote, peaceful, but not remote enough. It is difficult to manage one's external life as one would wish. I have been working towards one thing for years now. But it is still on the horizon. Because I cannot yet attain to it without "misunderstanding" it cant be mine yet. But it comes nearer - much nearer. But I do not like to talk ‘prudently'. In fact it is detestable.
   To change the subject. I saw something awfully nice the day after I got here. Behind this hotel there is a big stretch of turf before one comes to the forest. And in the late afternoon as the herds were driven home when they came to this turf they went wild with delight. Staid, black cows began to dance and leap and cut capers, lowing softly. Meek, refined-looking little sheep who looked as though buttercups would not melt in their mouths could not resist it; they began to jump, to spin round, to bound forward like rocking horses. As for the goats they were extremely brilliant dancers of the highest order - the Russian Ballet was nothing compared to them. But best of all were the cows. Cows do not look very good dancers, do they? Mine were as light as feathers and really gay, joyful. It made one laugh to see them. But it was so beautiful too. It was like the first chapter in Genesis over again. "Fourfooted creatures created He them." One wanted to weep as well.  [To S.S. Koteliansky, 17 June 1922.]