The Earth Is Suffocating... Swear To Make

I Am Gay On The Outside, Especially Among My Own Folk (i Count Poles My Own); But Inside Something Gnaws At Me; Some Presentiment, Anxiety, Dreams - Or Sleeplessness - Melancholy, Indifference - Desire For Life, And The Next Instant, Desire For Death; Some Kind Of Sweet Peace, Some Kind Of Numbness, Absent-mindedness.

It's A Huge Carthusian Monastery, Stuck Down Between Rocks And Sea, Where You May Imagine Me, Without White Gloves Or Hair Curling, As Pale As Ever, In A Cell With Such Doors As Paris Never Had For Gates. The Cell Is The Shape Of A Tall Coffin, With An Enormous Dusty Vaulting, A Small Window... Bach, My Scrawls And Waste Paper - Silence - You Could Scream - There Would Still Be Silence. Indeed, I Write To You From A Strange Place.

Yesterday's Concert Was A Success. I Hasten To Let You Know. I Inform Your Lordship That I Was Not A Bit Nervous And Played As I Play When I Am Alone. It Went Well... And I Had To Come Back And Bow Four Times.

Even In Winter It Shall Be Green In My Heart.

Put All Your Soul Into It, Play The Way You Feel!