gri_2003_m_46_b01_f09_061
- Max. dissimilarity: 0.067
- Mean dissimilarity: 0.037
- Image votes: 0.0
Transcribers
- WINNER - 65305123 - kanjoku
- 65314044 - SarahBe
- 65322218 - ChrisMM76
- 65333197 - Bambina41
- 65363088 - DBonkers
WINNER - 65305123 - kanjoku
22 x 1948Wimbledon.
Dearest Sylvia,
Well, I got my steak as I hoped, and so kept my strength up for work. Then Mother came home and I got a second lunch though more modest. I did not tell her of the first.
There is the smell of paint &c. about at present because Ricky is painting a portrait of Mother, in her red cross things. It reminds me very acutely and wistfully of the studio in which I sat for my portrait and the painter to whom I sat. Perhaps you have been in your studio this afternoon. I imagined you there.
I love you, Sylvia. Do not doubt me. I look forward very excitedly to our meeting next Saturday. I will send you a cheque. Come by train it is quicker and it will make your return home less precise. You know what I mean. And I can come to East Croyden. Oh, Sylvia, I love you. Your letters do help me with their charm and their love and their news.
Your account of filling in the landscape of our picture suggested the following poem to me:
SYLVIA AS FLORA
As Flora spends her avalanche of flowers
On hills and hollows of the country
So you my painter, lover, pagan,
Populate the canvas with your signs.
Your various disguises, none of them designed to confuse but only delight with variety, of Minerva, Painter, Cat, and more, are a symbol of the rich pleasure I find in your presence. O dearest I love you.
Have you seen the new King Penguin of Durer woodcuts? It is splendid value for half-a-crown. I have been tremendously excited by it.
I can now call you a villain: what a delightfully startling suggestion that there may be some rubbed paint at the lips of my portrait. I think the best thing is not to go on with your painting to correct this but make your model resemble your image. Nature catching up Art, &c. We shall prove it, darling.
c3,600 words on The Rake's Progress await typing. I must get on to it and let Dilys Powell have it. So I must stop. I love you, Sylvia: thank you for your letters, I long for more, and I shall never stop loving you,
Lawrence
65314044 - SarahBe
22 x 1948 Wimbledon.Dearest Sylvia,
Well, I got my steak as I hoped, and so kept my strength up for work. then Mother came home and I got a second lunch though more modest. I did not tell her of the first.
There is the smell of paint &c. about at present because Ricky is painting a portrait of Mother, in her red cross things. It reminds me very acutely and wistfully of the studio in which I sat for my portrait and the painter to whom I sat. Perhaps you have been in your studio this after-noon. I imagined you there.
I love you, Sylvia. Do not doubt me. I look forward very excitedly to our meeting next saturday. I will send you a cheque. Come by train it is quicker and it will make your return home less precise. You know what I mean. And I can come to East Croyden. Oh, Sylvia, I love you. Your letters do help me with their charm and their love and their news.
Your account of filling in the landscape of our picture suggested the following poem to me:
SYLVIA AS FLORA
As Flora spends her avalanche of flowers
On hills and hollows of the country
So you my painter, lover, pagan,
Populate the canvas with your signs.
Your various disguised, none of them designed to confuse but only delight with variety, of Minerva, Painter, Cat, and more, are a symbol of the rich pleasure I find in your presence. O dearest I love you.
Have you seen the new King Penguin of Durer woodcuts? It is splendid value for half-a-crown. I have been tremendously excited by it.
I can now call you a villain: what a delightfully startling suggestion that there may be some rubbed paint at the lips of my portrait. I think the best thing is not to go on with your painting to correct this but make your model resemble your image. Nature catching up Art, &c. we shall prove it, darling.
c3,600 words on The Rake's Progress await typing. I must get on to it and let Dilys Powell have it. So I must stop. I love you, Sylvia: thank you for your letters, I long for more, and I shall never stop loving you,
Lawrence
65322218 - ChrisMM76
22 x 1948 Wimbledon.Dearest Sylvia,
Well, I got my steak as I hoped, and so kept my strength
up for work. Then Mother came home and I got a second lunch
though more modest. I did not tell her of the first.
There is the smell of paint &c. about at present because
Ricky is painting a portrait o Mother, in her red cross
things. It reminds me very acutely and wistfully of the
studio in which I sat for my portrait and the painter to
whom I sat. Perhaps you have been in your studio this after-
noon. I imagined you there.
I love you, Sylvia. Do not doubt me. I look forward
very excitedly to our meeting next saturday. I will send
you a cheque. Come by the train it is quicker and it will make
your return nome less precise. You know what I mean. And
I can come to East Croyden. Oh, Sylvia, I love you. Your
letters do help me with their charm and their love and their
news.
Your account of filling in the landscape of our picture
suggested the following poem to me:
SYLVIA AS FLORA
As Flora spends her avalanche of flowers
On hills and hollows of the country
So you my painter, lover, pagan,
Populate the canvas with your signs.
Your various disguises, none of them designed to confuse
but only to delight with variety, of Miverva, Painter, Cat, and
more, are a symbol of the rich pleasure I find in your pre-
sense. O dearest I love you.
Have you seen the new King Penguin of Durer woodcuts? It
is splendid value for half-a-crown. I have been tremendously
excited by it.
I can now call you a villian: what a delightfully startling
suggestion that there may be some rubbed paint at the lips of
my portrait. I think the best thing is not to go on with your
painting to correct this but make your model resemble your image.
Nature catching up Art, &c. We shall prove it, darling.
c3,600 on The Rake's Progress await typing. I must get
on to it and let Dilys Powell have it. So I must stop. I
love you Sylvia: thank you for your letters, I long for more,
and I shall never stop loving you.
Lawrence
65333197 - Bambina41
22 x 1948 Wimbledon.Dearest Sylvia,
Well, I got my steak as I hoped, and so kept my strength up for work. Then Mother came home and I got a second lunch though more modest. I did not tell her of the first.
There is the smell of paint &c.about at present because Ricky is painting a portrait of Mother, in her red cross things. It reminds me very acutely and wistfully of the studio in which I sat for my portrait and the painter to whom I sat. Perhaps you have been in your studio this afternoon. I imagined you there.
I love you, Sylvia. Do not doubt me. I look forward very excitedly to our meeting next Saturday. I will send you a cheque. Come by train it is quicker and it will make your return home less precise. You know what I mean. And I can come to East Croyden. Oh, Sylvia, I love you. Your letters do help me with their charm and their love and their news.
You account of filling in the landscape of our picture suggested the following poem to me:
SYLVIA AS FLORA
As Flora spends her avalanche of flowers
On hills and hollows of the country
So you my painter, lover, pagan,
Populate the canvas with your signs.
Your various disguises, none of them designed to confuse but only delight with variety, of Minerva, Painter, Cat, and more, are a symbol of the rich pleasure I find in your presence. O dearest I love you.
Have you seen the new King Penguin of Durer woodcuts? It is splendid value for half-a-crown. I have been tremendously excited by it.
I can now call you a villain: what a delightfully startling suggestion that there may be some rubbed paint at the lips of my portrait. I think the best thing is not to go on with your painting to correct this but make your model resemble your image. Nature catching up Art, &c. We shall prove it, darling.
3,600 words on The Rake's Progress await typing. I must get to it and let Dilys Powell have it. So I must stop. I love you Sylvia: thank your for your letters, I long for more, and I shall never stop loving you.
Lawrence
65363088 - DBonkers
22 x 1948 Wimbledon.Dearest Sylvia,
Well, I got my steak as I hoped, and so kept my strength up for work. Then Mother came home and I got a second lunch though more modest. I did not tell her of the first.
There is the smell of paint & c. about at present because Ricky is painting a portrait of Mother, in her red cross things. It reminds me very acutely and wistfully of the studio in which I sat for my portrait and the painter to whom I sat. Perhaps you have been in your studio this afternoon. I imagined you there.
I love you, Sylvia. Do not doubt me. I look forward very excitedly to our meeting next Saturday. I will send you a cheque. Come by train it is quicker and it will make your return home less precise. You know what I mean. And I can come to East Croydon. Oh, Sylvia, I love you. Your letters do help me with their charm and their love and their news.
Your account of filling in the landscape of our picture suggested the following poem to me:
SYLVIA AS FLORA
As Flora spends her avalanche of flowers
On hills and hollows of the country
So you my painter, love, pagan,
Populate the canvas with your sings.
Your various disguises, none of them designed to confuse but only delight with variety, of Minerva, Painter, Cat, and more, are a symbol of the rich pleasure I find in your presence. O dearest I love you.
Have you seen the new King Penguin of Durer woodcuts? It is splendid value for half-a-crown. I have been tremendously excited by it.
I can now call you a villain: what a delightfully startling suggestion that there may be some rubbed paint at the lips of my portrait. I think the best thing is not to go on with your painting to correct this but make a model resemble your image. Nature catching up Art, & c. We shall prove it, darling.
c3,600 words on the Rake's Progress await typing. I must get on to it and let Dilys Powell have it. So I must stop. I love you, Sylvia: thank you for your letters, I long for more, and I shall never stop loving you.
Lawrence