gri_2003_m_46_b06_f09_014
- Max. dissimilarity: 0.076
- Mean dissimilarity: 0.027
- Image votes: 0.0
Transcribers
- WINNER - 71818849 - racjohn
- 72002584 - Preacher357
- 72489294 - jesseytucker
- 73118509 - Zooniverse2017
- 73337431 - CurtisMyers
- 73771881 - Janet616
WINNER - 71818849 - racjohn
Blackheath11September
Dearest Sylvia:
I am sorry M's visit left you depressed. I can understand how that could happen. Although I was only with him a short time Monday, everything seemed rather hard going, somehow. I cannot see quite how to explain it: he just wasn't easy. But he did buy my lunch. And on the surface he was very nice.
Heavens, I had forgotten about the Mountains. thank you for reminding me. I must certainly contact them. I must think up something convincing to tell them.
Your paintings have certainly taken shape quickly. I was so surprised and pleased to learn you had done so much in this morning's letter. (By the way, the Smith cutting you said you enclosed was not there: could I have it by Tuesday, the day of my Smith lecture?)
I have written some more to my article on Ealing films which strengthens my case considerably.
I mentioned that I was working on some poems. Here are some bits and pieces, not final yet, but coming. You may remember the poems on pieces of anatomy: first there is a new section for that, about hands, the hands of clumsy people. I noticed how helpless Chirico's neo-classic figures are: some body suggested it was because of spiritual concerns they are clumsy here:
Helpless in the matter of hands
(everywhere an arena they're lost in)
groping at knobs, adept with lakes in the head
Where those strong with their hands go drown
applauded by bubbles.
Able to dial within two:
therefore always speaking to strangers,
lost in the sealed kiosk of the skin.
I reached, I must have been miles away.
Instead of a spoon, a glass
of water falls and drips all through the meal.
What do you read as limpest hands
gummily turn three pages at a time,
Cuban Stories, Asimov, Rousseau,
it wouldn't matter to you starry eye,
lonely by light years from the signs.
72002584 - Preacher357
11 September Blackheath Dearest Sylvia:I am sorry M's visit left you depressed. I can understand
how that could happen. Although I was only with him a short
time Monday, everything seemed rather hard going, somehow.
I cannot see quite how to explain it: he just wasn't away.
But he did buy my lunch. And on the surface he was very nice.
Heavens, I had forgotten about the Mountains. Thank you for
reminding me. I must certainly contact them. I must think
up something convincing to tell them.
Your paintings have certainly taken shape quickly. I was so
surprised and pleased to learn you had done so much in this
morining's letter. (By the way, the Smith cutting you said
you enclosed was not there: could I have it by Tuesday, the
day of my Smith lecture?)
I have written some more to my articles on Ealing films which
strengthens my case considerably.
I mentioned that I was working on some poems. Here are some
bits and pieces, not final yet, but coming. You may
remember the poems on pieces of anatomy: first there is a
new section for that, about hands, the hands of clumsy people.
I noticed how helpless Chirico's neo-classical figures are: some
lady suggested it was because of spiritual concerns they are
clumsy here:
Helpless in the matter of hands
(everywhere an arena they're lost in)
groping at knobs, adept with lakes in the head
Where those strong with their hands go drown
applauded by bubbles.
Able to dial within two:
therefore always speaking to strangers,
lost in the sealed kiosk of the skin.
I reached, I must have been miles away.
Instead of a spoon, a glass
of water falls and drips all through the meal.
What do you read as limpest hands
gummily turn three pages at a time,
Cuban Stories, Asimov, Rousseau,
it wouldn't matter to your starry eye,
lonely by lightyears from the signs.
72489294 - jesseytucker
Blackheath11 september
Dearest Sylvia:
I am sorry M's visit left you depressed. I can understand
how that could happen. Although I was only with him a short
time Monday, everything seemed rather hard going, somehow.
I cannot see quite how to explain it: he just wasn't easy.
But he did buy my lunch. And on the surface he was very nice.
Heavens, I had forgotten about the Mountains. Thank you for
reminding me. I must certainly contact them. I must think
up something convincing to tell them.
Your paintings have certainly taken shape quickly. I was so
surprised and pleased to learn you had done so much in this
morning's letter. (By the way, the Smith cutting you said
you enclosed was not there: could I have it by Tuesday, the
day of my Smith lecture?)
I have written some more to my article on Ealing films which
strengthens my case considerably.
I mentioned that I was working on some poems. Here are some
bits and pieces, not final yet, but coming. You may
remember the poems on pieces of anatomy: first there is a
new section for that, about hands, the hands of clumsy people.
I noticed how helpless Chirico's neo-classic figures are: some
body suggested it was because of spiritual concerns they are
clumsy here:
Helpless in the matter of hands
(everywhere an arena they're lost in)
groping at knobs, adept with lakes in the head
Where those strong with their hands go drown
applauded by bubbles.
Able to dial within two:
there fore always speaking to strangers,
lost in the sealed kiosk of the skin.
I reached, I must have been miles away.
Instead of a spoon, a glass
of water falls and drips all through the meal.
What do you read as limpest hands
gummily turn three pages at a time,
Cuban Stories, Asimov, Rousseau,
it wouldn't matter to your starry eye,
lonely by light years from the signs.
73118509 - Zooniverse2017
Blackheath11 September
Dearest Sylvia:
I am sorry M's visit left you depressed. I can understand
how that could happen. Although I was only with him a short
time Monday, everything seemed rather hard going, somehow.
I cannot see quite how to explain it: he just wasn't easy.
But he did buy my lunch. And on the surface he was very nice.
Heavens, I had forgotten about the Mountains. Thank you for
reminding me. I must certainly contact them. I must think
up something convincing to tell them.
Your paintings have certainly taken shape quickly. I was so
surprised and pleased to learn you had done so much in this
morning's letter. (By the way, the Smith cutting you said
you enclosed was not there: could I have it by Tuesday, the
day of my Smith lecture?)
I have written some more to my article on Ealing films which
strengthens my case considerably.
I mentioned that I was working on some poems. Here are some
bits and pieces, not final yet, but coming. You may
remember the poems on pieces of anatomy: first there is a
new section for that, about hands, the hands of clumsy people.
I noticed how helpless Chirico's neo-classic figures are: some-
body suggested it was because of spiritual concerns they are
clumsy here:
Helpless in the matter of hands
(everywhere an arena they're lost in)
groping at knobs, adept with lakes in the head,
Where those strong with their hands go drown
applauded by bubbles.
Able to dial within two:
therefore always speaking to strangers,
lost in the sealed kiosk of the skin.
I reached, I must have been miles away.
Instead of a spoon, a glass
of water falls and drips all through the meal.
What do you read as limpest hands
gummily turn three pages at a time,
Cuban Stories, Asimov, Rousseau,
it wouldn't matter to your starry eye,
lonely by lightyears from the signs.
73337431 - CurtisMyers
Blackheath11 September
Dearest Sylvia:
I am sorry M's visit left you depressed. I can understand that could happen. Although I was only with him a short time Monday, everything seemed rather hard going, somehow.
I cannot see quite how to explain it: he just wasn't easy. But he did buy my lunch. And on the surface he was very nice.
Heavens, I had forgotten about the Mountains. Thank you for reminding me. I must certainly contact them.
Your paintings have certainly taken shape quickly. I was so surprised and pleased to learn you had done so much in this morning's letter. (By the way, the Smith cutting you said you enclosed was not there: could I have it by Tuesday, the day of my Smith lecture?)
I have written some more to my article on Ealing films which strengthens my case considerably.
I mentioned that I was working on some poems. Here are some bits and pieces, not final yet, but coming. You may remember the poems on pieces of anatomy: first there is a new section for that, about hands, the hands of clumsy people. I noticed how helpless Chirico's neo-classic figures are: some body suggested it was because of spiritual concerns they are clumsy here:
Helpless in the matter of hands
(everywhere an arena they're lost in)
groping at knobs, adept with lakes in the head
Where those strong with their hands go drown
applauded by bubbles.
Able to dial within two:
therefore always speaking to strangers,
lost in the sealed kiosk of the skin.
I reached, I must have been miles away.
Instead of a spoon, a glass
of water falls and drips all through the meal.
What do you read as limpest hands
gummily turn three pages at a time,
Cuban Stories, Asimoy, Rousseau
it wouldn't matter to your starry eye,
lonely by light years from the signs.
73771881 - Janet616
Blackheath11 september
Dearest Sylvia,
I am sorry M's visit left you depressed. I can understand how that could happen. Although I was only with him a short time Monday, everything seemed rather hard going, somehow. I cannot see quite how to explain it: he just wasn't easy. But he did buy my lunch. And on the surface he was very nice.
Heavens, I had forgotten about the Mountains. Thank you for reminding me. I must certainly contact them. I must think up something convincing to tell them.
Your paintings have certainly taken shape quickly. I was so surprised and pleased to learn you had done so much in this morning's letter. "By the way, the Smith cutting you said you enclosed was not there; could I have it by Tuesday, the day of my Smith lecture?)
I have written some more to my article on Ealing films which strengthens my case considerably.
I mentioned that I was working on some poems. Here are some bits and pieces, not final yet, but coming. You may remember the poems on pieces of anatomy: first there is a new section for that, about hands, the hands of clumsy people. I noticed how helpless Chirico's neo-classic figures are: some body suggested it was because of spiritual concerns they are clumsy here:
Helpless in the matter of hands
(everywhere an arena they're lost in)
groping at knobs, adept with lakes in the head
Where those strong with their hands go drown
applauded by bubbles.
Able to dial within two:
therefore always speaking to strangers,
lost in the sealed kiosk of the skin.
I reached, I must have been miles away.
Instead of a spoon, a glass
of water falls and drips all through the meal.
What do you read as limpest hands
gummily turn three pages at a time,
Cuban Stories, Asimov, Rousseau,
it wouldn't matter to your starry eye,
lonely by lightyears from the signs.