21 August

21 August 1920

2 Portland Villas, Hampstead - London

I can call up certain persons -Doctor Sorapure for instance. And than I remember how I used to say to J & A "he was looking very beautiful today." I did not know what I was saying. But when I so summon him & see him ‘in relation' he is marvellously beautiful. There again he comes to every tiny detail to the shape of his thumbs, to looking over his glasses, his lips as he writes & particularly in all connected with putting the needle into a syringe - I relive all this at will.
But my life with Jack I'm not inclined to. It doesn't enter my head. Where that life was there's just a blank. The future - the present life with him is not. It has got to be lived. There's nothing in it. Something has stopped - a wall has been raised and its too recent for me to wish to go there even. Wait till it looks a little less new....is the feeling. I'm not in the least curious either - & not in the least inclined to lament.
If one wasn't so afraid - why should I be - these aren't going to be read by Bloomsbury et Cie - I'd say we had a child - a love child & its dead. We may have other children but this child can't be made to live again. J. says forget that letter. How can I? It killed the child - killed it really & truly for ever as far as I am concerned. Oh, I don't doubt that if I live there will be other children but there won't be that child. [KM Notebooks, undated]