Once again, me up at 5 a.m. not able to sleep, wondering about you. Reading a book about Sophia Tolstoy and her photographic history of her famous husband.
September 23, 1910
"There is no holding him."
Went out on the deck in my nightie to watch the sun come up. Big ship coming in from the sea with it's lights on. Studying my compass points. Is he over there? Boston? Dunno.
Looked back at the bed from the deck. Freezing bare feet. Wishing you were in my bed saying, "Shut that door, slut and get back in bed. Go back to seep."
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