22 October

22 October 1920

Villa Isola Bella Menton, France

Dear Love
I had your letter with the enclosures today: all interesting indeed to me. I feel Knopf is very friendly, tho', don't you? Id like to send him the sheets of a book that he DID consider an absolute korker. Its very cold here. I have a fire & a rug & a screen. But of course the cold is not London cold - its pure - and its somehow exciting. In fact the cold here is intoxicating - its as marvellous as the heat. The leaves shake in the garden - the rosebuds are very tight shut - there's a kind of whiteness in the sky over the sea. I loved such days when I was a child - I love them here. In fact I think Menton must be awfully like N.Z. - but ever so much better. The little milk girl comes in at a run, letting the gate swing; she has a red stocking tied round her neck. Marie predicts a strike, snow, no food, no fuel and only la volonté de Dieu will save us. But while she drees her weird she begins to laugh & then forgets. A poor little cat, terrified with pink eyes looked in & begged, & then slunk away. To my joy I hear it dashed into the dining room, seized a poisson on the console & made off with it. Hooray! What silly little things to tell you - but they make a kind of Life - they are part of a Life that - Bogey - I LOVE. If you were here you'd know what I mean. Its a kind of freedom - a sense of living - not enduring -not existing - but being alive. I feel I could have children here for about a farthing each & dress them in little bits cut off ones own clothes. It wouldn't matter as long as they had feathers in their hats. Its all so EASY. [Letter to J. M. Murry in Collected Letters 1920]