1 September
1 September
1 September 1920
Travelling to Menton, France
Four little boys. One minute, three larking. When the three ran on to the lines tried to dash & tried to dash themselves to death the little one obviously suffered torture & did his best to drag them back again. I realised this would have been just the same if it had been deep water.
An old man, an old woman, a tiny boy in a cape. When the old woman disappeared, the ancient took the little boy with such tender care. He had a pipe in his beard - it looked as though his beard were curling ... Poplars springing in green water - red willows. The luxury of trees!
- - - For a story little boys [......] and a yard paved with hard little stones[?]. Heirloom[?] homes. Why are the town doors all guarded with bars and tines of iron. Hideous shapes. Villas oleanders & birches & pretty with lead pencil spires. Beau Sejour - with dim lights, Belle Bague, Pension des Amis. Bague. The lake very cold with little diving steps pegged out into the water.
Lecons de piano & behind a pair of trousers hanging out to dry.
Why do people always put on such airs when they are saying goodbye.
They smile - [.....]
They seem so exquisitely glad to be staying. Are they? Or is it envy?
This is John's Fountain pen and I don't think much of it. It's all on one side! [KM Notebooks, undated]