gri_2003_m_46_b01_f06_058
- Max. dissimilarity: 0.061
- Mean dissimilarity: 0.041
- Image votes: 0.0
Transcribers
- 65344152 - BelleB
- 65345106 - NVarellas
- 65353663 - ariely15
- 65355205 - Africatraveler
- WINNER - 65366113 - reddder
- 65366525 - sdoes13
65344152 - BelleB
[23-7-48]Thursday England
My dearest Sylvia,
How varied are the sheets on which I record my continuous longing for you: all shapes and sizes and colors, yet all written with a single purpose. Your own pile of letters, that is my collection of your letters, apart from one enormous sheet, have a unity of color and size.
Are your movements after Siena decided yet? Also Will you and Michael be able to get to Venice? Is J.C. loquacious on trains? Your head must be full of colors and images and Italian names. Everybody is going abroad. Well, anyway, John McHale and Albert are going to Italy shortly and John to Paris on Saturday. Ho hum.
You don't want the essay on Pope's illustrations sent to Italy do you? I'm revising it a bit. As soon as I have time I shall, to be more accurate. Also I hope to write a companion piece on another subject.
I don't image you have much time for drawing do you, with the works of so many other artists to see? I keep thinking of our double portrait, trying to visaulise the landscape you have put in since I saw it.
I am fairly pink from sunbathing now but today has been to erratic to be undressed. If only the sun keeps up for a week or two I shall not be too pale on your return.
This letter and the preceding one are a bit fragmentary I'm afraid but it is because I am trying to think out large bits of my book and consequently am not really fit for much else in the way of writing at the moment. But I could not avoid the opportunity to assure you again of my love for you.
There is a Regency festival at Brighton now but I doubt I shall see it. I would have liked to but unless Robert Hart takes me I don't give much for my chances.
Pablo recently has spent several nights out - celebrating his recovery - and he usually comes in about nine and settles down on one of the beds where he stays until tea-time: then we both have tea, as I told you.
I hope my next letter will be better composed.
I miss you. I love you.
Lawrence
65345106 - NVarellas
EnglandThursday
My dearest Sylvia,
How varied are the sheets on which I record my continuous longing for you: all shapes and sizes and colors, yet all written with a single purpose. Your own pile of letters, that is my collection of your letters, apart from one enormous sheet, have a unity of color and size.
Are your movements after Siena decided yet? Also will you and Michael be able to get to Venice? Is J.C. loquacious on trains? Your head must be full of colors and images and Italian names. Everybody is going abroad. Well, anyway, John McHale and Albert are going to Italy shortly and John to Paris on Saturday. Ho Hum.
You don't want the essay on Pope's illustrations sent to Italy do you? I'm revising it a bit. As soon as I have time I shall, to be more accurate. Also I hope to write a companion piece on another subject.
I don't imagine you have much time for drawing do you, with the works of so many other artists to see? I keep thinking of our double portrait, trying to visualize the landscape you have put in since I saw it.
I am fairly pink from sunbathing now but today has been too erratic to be undressed. If only the sun keeps up for a week or two I shall not be too pale on your return.
This letter and the preceding one are a bit fragmentary I'm afraid but it is because I am trying to think out large bits of my book and consequently am not really fit for much else in the way of writing at the moment. But I could not avoid the opportunity to assure you again of my love for you.
There is a Regency festival at Brighton now but I doubt I shall see it. I would have liked to but unless Robert Bart takes me I don't give much for my chances. Pablo recently has spend several nights out - celebrating his recovery - and he usually comes in about nine and settles down on one of the beds where he stays until tea-time: then we both have tea, as I told you.
I hope my next letter will be better composed.
I miss you. I love you. Lawrence
65353663 - ariely15
Thursday EnglandMy dearest Sylvia,
How varied are the sheets on which I record my continuous longing for you: all shapes and sizes and colors, yet all written with a single purpose. Your own pile of letters, that is my collection of your letters, apart from one enormous sheet, have a unity of color and size.
Are your movements after Siena decided yet? seso will you and Michael be able to get to Venice? Is J.C. loquacious on trains? Your head must be full of colors and images and Italian names. Everybody is going abroad. Well, anyway, John McHale and Albert are going to Italy shortly and John to Paris on Saturday. Ho hum.
You don't want the essay on Pope's illustrations sent to Italy do you? I'm revising it a bit As soon as I have time I shall, to be more accurate. Also I hope to write a companion piece on another subject.
I don't imagine you have much time for drawing do you, with the works of so many other artists to see? I keep thinking of our double portrait, trying to visualise the landscape you have put in since I saw it.
I am fairly pink from sunbathing now but today has been too erratic to be undressed. If only the sun keeps up for a week or two I shall not be too pale on your return.
This letter and the preceeding one are a bit fragmentary I'm afraid but it is because I am trying to think out large bits of my book consequently am not really fit for much else in the way of writing at the moment. But I could not avoid the opportunity to assure you again of my love for you.
There is a Regency festival at Brighton now but I doubt I shall see it. I would have liked to but unless Robert Hart takes me I don't give much for my chances.
Pablo recently has spent several nights out - celebrating his recovery - and he usually comes in about nine and settles down on one of the beds where he stays until tea-time: then we both have tea, as I told you.
I hope my next letter will be better composed.
I miss you. I love you.
65355205 - Africatraveler
[23-7-48]Thursday
England
My dearest Sylvia,
How varied are the sheets on which I record my continuous longing for you: all shapes and sizes and colors, yet all written with a single purpose. Your own pile of letters, that is my collection of your letters, apart from one enormous sheet, have a unity of color and size.
Are your movements after Siena decided yet? Also, will you and Michael be able to get to Venice? Is J.C. loquacious on trains? Your head must be full of colors and images and Italian names. Everybody is going abroad. Well, anyway, John McHale and Albert are going to Italy shortly and John to Paris on Saturday. Ho hum.
You don't want the essay on Pope's illustrations sent to Italy do you? I'm revising it a bit. As soon as I have time I shall, to be more accurate. Also I hope to write a companion piece on another subject.
I don't imagine you have much time for drawing do you, with the works of so many other artists to see? I keep thinking of our double portrait, trying to visualize the landscape you have put in since I saw it.
I am fairly pink from sunbathing now but today has been too erratic to be undressed. If only the sun keeps up for a week or two I shall not be too pale on your return.
This letter and the preceding one are a bit fragmentary I'm afraid but it is because I am trying to think out large bits of my book and consequently am not really fit for much else in the way of writing at the moment. But I could not avoid the opportunity to assure you again of my love for you.
There is a Regency festival at Brighton now but I doubt I shall see it. I would have like to but unless Robert Bart takes me I don't have give much for my chances.
Pablo recently has spent several nights out - celebrating his recovery - and he usually comes in about nine and settles down on one of the beds where he stays until tea-time: then we both have tea, as I told you.
I hope my next letter will be better composed.
I miss you. I love you.
Lawrence
WINNER - 65366113 - reddder
Thursday EnglandMy dearest Sylvia,
How varied are the sheets on which I record mu continuous longing for you: all shapes and sizes and colors, yet all written with a single purpose. Your own pile of letters, that is my collection of your letters, apart from one enormous sheet, have a unity of color and size.
Are your movements after Sienna decided yet? Also will you and Michael be able to get to Venice? Is J.C. Loquacious on trains? Your head must be full of colors and images and Italian names. Everybody is going abroad. Well, anyway, John McHale and Albert are going to Italy shortly and John to Paris on Saturday. Ho hum.
You don't want the essay on Pope's illustrations sent to Italy do you? I'm revising it a bit. As soon as I have time I shall, to be more accurate. Also I hope to write a companion piece on another subject.
I don't imagine you have much time for drawing do you, with the works of so many other artists to see? I keep thinking of our double portrait, trying to visualise the landscape you have put in since I saw it.
I am fairly pink from sunbathing now but today has been too erratic to be undressed. If only the sun keeps up for a week or two I shall not be too pale on your return.
This letter and the preceding one are a bit fragmentary I'm afraid but it is because I am trying to think out large bits of my book and consequently am not really fit for much else in the way of writing at the moment. But I could not avoid the opportunity to assure you again of my love for you.
There is a Regency festival at Brighton now but I doubt I shall see it. I would have liked to but unless Robert Hart takes me I don,t give much for my chances.
Pablo recently has spent several nights out - celebrating his recovery - and he usually comes in about nine and settles down on one of the beds where he stays until tea-time: then we both have tea, as I told you.
I hope my next letter will be better composed.
I miss you. I love you.
Lawrence
65366525 - sdoes13
EnglandThursday
My dearest Sylvia,
How varied are the sheets on which I record my continuous longing for you: all shapes and sizes and colors, yet all written with a single purpose. Your own pile of letters, that is my collection of your letters, apart from one enormous sheet, have a unity of color and size.
Are movements after Siena decided yet? Also will you and Michael be able to get to Venice? Is J.C. loquacious on trains? Your head must be full of colors and images and Italian names. Everybody is going abroad. Well, anyway, John Mchale and Albert are going to Italy shortly and John to Paris on Saturday. Ho hum.
You don't want the essay on Pope's Illustrations sent to Italy do you? I'm revising it a bit. As soon as I have time I shall, to be more accurate. Also I hope to write a companion piece on another subject.
I don't imagine you have much time for drawing do you, with the works of so many other artists to see? I keep thinking of our double portrait, trying to visualise the landscape you have put in since I saw it.
I am fairly pink from sunbathing now but today has been to erratic to be undressed. If only the sun keeps up for a week or two I shall not be too pale on your return.
This letter and the preceding one are a bit fragmentary I'm afraid but it is because I am trying to think out large bits of my book and consequently am not really fit for much else in the way of writing at the moment. But I could not avoid the opportunity to assure you again of my love for you.
There's a Regency festival at Brighton now but I doubt I shall see it. I would have liked to but unless Robert Eart takes me I don't have much for my chances.
Pablo has recently spent several nights out - celebrating his recovery - and he usually comes in about nine and settles down on one of the beds where he stays until tea-time: then we both have tea, as I told you.
I hope my next letter will be better composed.
I miss you. I love you.
Lawrence