I started in on Anne Frank’s diary again this morning and finished it before supper. I am obliged to retract my previous statement. The girl used metaphors worthy of an accomplished writer, and wrote about some very heavy stuff. I am duly impressed, but even more so by her essential charm and humanity under duress. What might have been had she survived? Ah, those saddest of words again!
<I succeeded in writing to Sofia tonight over a glass of blackberry wine.> The wine was “regular” {just OK} but the letter was pretty good, I think. <I try so hard to be perfectly honest and open with Sofia, that at times it cramps my pen hand!> One can’t be sure what he really does think or feel until he puts it down & reads it over. Thinking is a creative process, and writing it down is another!
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