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Saturday.
My dearest, loved Hedda,
Evening late, I stay home pleasantly, had steak, drink. Now reading some poetry that Vierek sent me (instigated by Maurice who wrote me a long letter of advice on poetry)

I thought a lot about myself (as usual I get much more solemn about life and myself when I'm alone) and I ask you now to, please, never listen to what I tell you about once a year, you have to be always with me. You know that I love you sincerely and I'm devoted to you.

Today was sunny, there was a big leftist parade and a big antileftist parade and from my office I could hear all afternoon the sound of tam-tam, drums, trumpets - Depressing.

I had a long walk, I worry about the book and I worry generally about doing mediocre things that come out of working too much. What worries me most are the first drawings I ever made, they were