gri_2003_m_46_b04_f08_002
- Max. dissimilarity: 0.071
- Mean dissimilarity: 0.041
- Image votes: 1.0
Transcribers
- 66691695 - Frosty1
- 66722512 - Preacher357
- 67094979 - not-logged-in-91ae48aaa5b43ee47301
- 67439806 - nzanga
- WINNER - 67542774 - Judyteen
- 68192046 - southsidesunny
66691695 - Frosty1
Blackheath1st August
Dearest Sylvia
I do hope that you are happy in the country and that the Woods are understanding. The weather, though fitful, is not unpleasant on the whole here; therefore I can imagine you bathing and, perhaps, painting. Am I right? I am glad Desiree is well - I am sure she will be pleased to see you again.
Perhaps you would like some news of my film book. About a third is written. At the moment it stands like this :
Key to the City (general survey) CRIME FILMS
D.O.A. (Individual analysis) "
Clouded Yellow "
The Iron Age (general survey) WESTERNS
Winchester 75 (individual analysis) "
War Films (general survey)
Orphee
Champagne for Caesar
Two unfinished articles are Shadow on Sunset Boulevard (actresses) and The Tragic Bluff. And, of course, The Third Man.
The abstract paintings at the Gimpel are wretched. John and I stayed there for nearly two hours examining everything conscientiously : we could have spared ourselves the trouble. Pretentious, incompetent, half-baked. John much disliked a painting by Hamilton. Come to that, so did I. The so-called revival of abstract painting in Britain is fallacious.
Today I will try and get you the lamp shade you want for your visitor. Is it alright to keep it till you come? It would be difficult top pack up but if you want to get on with it I will post it. By the way, my shoes came on Saturday : thank you very much. I have saved the string : Dandy undoing it ...
Here is a piece of my play :
Bananas of tar, January; wineglasses of rock, February; March : solemn balustrades of wine. So the year passes. April : valleys are where the wind leans her elbows. May : intolerant pergola of ostriches; June - the moon in a hay tenement. Pillow of vines : July. The skin of sunlight : August. Already September - hierarchy of bouquets. Look out : November, the black ogre, descending October's beanstalk. Propelling pencils of lace : December.
Sylvia, my beauty, I adore you - I adore you,
Lawrence
66722512 - Preacher357
Blackheath 1st August Dearest SylviaI do hope that you are happy in the country and that the Woods are
understanding. The weather, though fitful, is not unpleasant on
the whole, here: therefore I imagine you bathing and, perhaps, paint-
ing. Am I right? I am glad Desiree is well - I am sure she will
be pleased to see you again.
Perhaps you would like some news of my film book. About a third
is written. At the moment it stands like this:
Key to the City (general survey)
D.O.A. (Individual analysis) CRIME FILMS
Clouded Yellow
The Iron Age (general survey) WESTERNS
Winchester 75 (Individual analysis)
War Films (General survey)
Orphee
Champagne for Caesar
Two unfinished articles are Shadow on Sunset Boulevard (actresses)
and The Tragic Bluff. And, of course, The Third Man.
The abstract paintings at GImpel are wretched. John and I stayed
there for nearly two hours examining everything conscienticusly:
we could have spared ourselves the trouble. Pretentious, incom-
petent, half-baked. John much disliked a painting by Hamilton.
Come to that, so did I. The so-called revival of abstract paint-
ing in Britain is fallacious.
Today I will try and get you the lamp shade you want for your visit-
or. Is it alright to keep it till you come? It would be difficult
to pack up but if you want to get on with it I will post it. By
the way, my shoes came on Saturday: thank you very much. I have
saved the string: Dandy undoing it.
Here is a piece of my play:
Bananas of tar, January; wineglasses of rock, February; March:
solemn balustrades of wine. So the year passes. April: valleys
are where the wind leans her elbows. May: intolerant pergola of
ostrichs; June - the moon in a hay tenement. Pillow of vines:
July. The skin of sunlight: August. Already September - hier-
archy of bouquets. Look out: November, the black ogre, descend-
ing October's beanstalk. Propelling pencils of lace: December.
Sylvia, my beauty, I adore you - I adore you,
Lawrence
67094979 - not-logged-in-91ae48aaa5b43ee47301
Blackheath1st August
Dearest Sylvia
I do hope that you are happy in the country and that the Woods are
understanding. The weather, though fitful, is not unpleasant on
the whole here; therefore I imagine you bathing and, perhaps, paint-
ing. Am I right? I am glad. Desiree is well- I am sure she will
be pleased to see you again.
Perhaps you would like some news of my film book. About a third
is written. At the moment it stands like this:
Key to the City (General survey)
S.O.A. (Individual analysis CRIME FILMS
Clouded Yellow
The Iron Age (general survey)
Winchester 75 (individual analysis) WESTERNS
War Films (Gneral survey)
Orphee
Champagne for Caesar
Two unfinished articles are Shadow on Sunset Boulevard (actresses)
and The Tragic Bluff. And, of course, The Third Man.
The abstract paintings at Gimpel are wretched. John and I stayed
there for nearly two hours examining everything conscientiously:
we could have spare ourselves the trouble. Pretentious, incom-
petent, half-baked. John much disliked a painting by Hamilton.
Come to that so did I. The so-called revival of abstract paint-
ing in Britain is fallacious.
Today I will try and get you the lamp shade you want for your visit-
or. Is it alright to keep it till you come? It would be difficult
to pack up but if you want to get on with it I will post it. By
the way, my shoes came on Saturday: thank you very much.
I have saved the string: Dandy undoing it
Here is a piece of my play:
Bananas sof tar, January; wineglasses of rock, February; March:
solem balustrades of wine. So the year passes. April: valleys
are where the wind leans her eblows. May: intolerant pergola of
ostrichs; June - the moon in a hay tenement. Pillow of vines:
July. The skin of sunlight: August. Already September - hier-
archy of bouquets. Look out: November, the black ogre, descend-
ing October's beanstalk. Propelling pencils of lace: December.
Sylvia, my beauty, I adore you - I adore you.
Lawrence
67439806 - nzanga
Blackheath1st August
Dearest Sylvia
I do hope that you are happy in the country and that the Woods are understanding. The weather, though fitful, is not unpleasant on the whole, here: therefore I imagine you bathing and , perhaps, painting. Am I right? I am glad Desiree is well - I am sure she will be pleased to see you again.
Perhaps you would like some news of my film book. About a third is written. At the moment it stands like this:
Key to the City ( general survey)
D.O.A.( Individual analysis) CRIME FILMS
Clouded Yellow
The Iron Age (general survey)
Winchester 75 ( individual analysis) WESTERNS
War Films (General survey)
Orphee
Champagne for Caesar
Two unfinished articles are Shadow on SUnset Boulevard (actresses) and The Tragic Bluff. And, of course, The Third Man.
The abstract paintings at Gimpel are wretched. John and I stayed there for nearly two hours examining everything conscientiously: we could have spared ourselves the trouble. Pretentious, incompetent, half-baked. John much disliked a painting by Hamilton. Come to that, so did I. The so-called revival of abstract painting in Britain is fallacious.
Today I will try and get you the lamp shade you ant for your visitor. Is it alright to keep it till you come? It would be difficult to pack up but if you want to get on with it I will post it. By the way, my shoes came on Saturday: thank you very much. I have saved the string: Dandy undoing it
Here is a piece of my play:
Bananas of tar, January; wineglasses of rock, February; March:solemn balustrades of wine. So the year passes. April: valleys are where the wind leans her elbows. May: intolerant pergola of ostriches; June - the moon in a hay tenement. Pillow of vines: July. The skin of sunlight: August. Already September - hierarchy of bouquets. Look out : November, the black ogre, descending October's beanstalk. Propelling pencils of lace: December.
Sylvia, my beauty, I adore you - I adore you,
Lawrence
WINNER - 67542774 - Judyteen
Blackheath1st. August
Dearest Sylvia
I do hope that you are happy in the country and that the Woods are understanding. The weather, though fitful, is not unpleasant on the whole, here; therefore I imagine you bathing and, perhaps, painting. Am I right? I am glad Desir'ee is wel- I am sure she will be pleased to see you again.
Perhaps you would like some news of my film book. About a third is written. At the moment it stands like this:
Key to the City (general survey)
D.O.A. (Individual analysis) }CRIME FILMS
Clouded yellow
The Iron Age (general survey) }WESTERNS
Winchester 75 (individual analysis)
War Films (General survey)
Orph'ee
Champagne for Caesar
Two unfinished articles are Shadow on Sunset Boulevard (actresses) and The Tragic Bluff. And, of course, The Third Man.
The abstract paintings at Gimpel are wretched. John and I stayed there for nearly two hours examining everything conscientiously: we could have spared ourselves the trouble. Pretentious, incompetent, half-baked. John much disliked a painting by Hamilton. Come to that, so did I. The so-called revival of abstract painting in Britain is fallacious.
Today I will try to get you the lamp shade you want for your visitor. Is it alright to keep it till you come? It would be difficult to pack up but if you want to get on with it I will post it. By the way, my shoes came on Saturday: thank you very much. I have saved the string: Dandy undoing it --> (note: here there are some drawings from Lawrence in the letter..)
Here is a piece of my play:
Bananas of tar, January; wineglasses of rock, February; March: solemn balustrades of wine. So the year passes. April: valleys are where the wind leans her elbows. May: intolerant pergola of ostrichs. June- the moon in a hay tenement. Pillow of vines: July. The skin of sunlight: August. Already September- hierarchy of bouquets. Look out: November, the black ogre, descending October's beanstalk. Propelling pencils of lace: December.
Sylvia, my beauty, I adore you- I adore you,
Lawrence
68192046 - southsidesunny
Blackheath1st August
Dearest Sylvia
I do hope that you are happy in the country and that the Woods are
understanding. The weather, though fitful, is not unpleasant on
the whole, here; therefore I imagine you bathing and, perhaps, paint-
ing. Am I right? I am glad Desire is well - I am sure she will
be pleased to see you again.
Perhaps you would like some news of my film book. About a third
is written. At the moment it stands like this:
Key to the City (general survey)
D.O.A. (Individual analysis) CRIME FILMS
Clouded Yellow
The Iron Age (general survey)
Winchester 75 (Individual analysis) WESTERNS
War Films (Gneral survey)
Orphee
Champagne for Caesar
Two unfinished articles are Shadow on Sunset Boulevard (actresses)
and The Tragic Bluff. And, of course, the Third Man.
The abstract paintings at Gimpel are wretched. John and I stayed
there for nearly two hours examining everything conscientiously:
we could have spared ourselves the trouble. Pretentious, incom-
petent, half-baked. John much disliked a painting by Hamilton.
Come to that, so did I. The so-called revival of abstract paint-
ing in Britain is fallacious.
Today I will try and get you the lamp shade you want for your visit-
or. Is it alright to keep it till you come? It would be difficult
to pack up but if you want to get on with it I will post it. By
the way, my shoes came on Saturday: thank you very much. I have
saved the string: Dandy undoing it
Here is a piece of my play:
Bananas of tar, January; wineglasses of rock, February; March;
solemn balustrades of wine. So the year passes. April: valleys
are where the wind leans her elbows. May: intolerant pergola of
ostrichs; June -the moon in a hay tenement. Pillow of vines:
July. The skin of sunlight: August. Already September - hier-
archy of bouquets. Look out: November, the black ogre, descend-
ing October beanstalk. Propelling pencils of lace: December.
Sylvia, my beauty, I adore you - I adore you,
Lawrence