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130 Thursday, May 8 [[strikethrough]] [[Wednesday, May 9, 1928 [[/strikethrough]] I don't know exactly how I feel to-night — sorta funny and mixed up, all for no good reason except the heat — or perhaps because I miss Bob, or because Mother said she didn't think I'd get a letter to-morrow — or because I have lots of work — oh — I don't know why or how. Bob has been wonderful about writing, and he has written such darling, darling letters — and I want to see him so badly.... I know this writing to me so often won't last — how could it — and I want it to. I want so many impossible things. And supposing I did see him for two hours — tea —, then that would end too. And would I want it to go on for ever. Oh I don't know anything. It's been unbearably hot, and I been so tired lately — from doing nothing at all. "Why not do something then?" said Sam Grier — that's all right if one know what she wants to do! I don't! To-day at school there was a storm, thunder & lightning. A wonderful one — with queer grey & blue light and then brilliant yellow splotches all over — and fresh green trees — and sparkling grass. But soon the freshness of the after-storm went away and left this heat — heat that makes one perspirey and dirty and tired. Not like the Mediterranean heat. The asphalt sends it back again — hotter. The city is twice as noisy, and I am twice as lazy, and discontented with — God knows what ...... 131 Thursday, May 10, 1928 31 + 31 + 31 + 32 = 142 Oh, I want a long letter from Bogb — full of him and his ideas and thoughts about everything, — about me. Or I should like to escape with him into some lovely place, and just absorb the beauty of the world and of our "relationship" — — I don't know what I want, as I've said, except that is something different from this, — and something with him in it. 50 days until Europe — — 9 days until exams — 15 days of school — and some hundred and a half until I may possibly see Bob — "Mathematics" again, [[?line]] — Oh — This is stupid!
