Oh I know this is nonsense – it can’t all be true. One day we will see it, both of us, together. To see this happen – this great transformation from the grey indifference of England to the bewitching colours and the bright rebirth of Spring in Austria. I only wish that above all you were here to see it with me. O darling – this is life! I only hope I will continue to think so. Rather, for music and painting, for poetry & happiness. You would never think that this land had ever been a battlefield, that these cottages had been pill-boxes, and the rivers tank traps. The fields look young and green, as if they were breathing in the warm sun and letting the wind run across them like spray over the side of a ship. Cobbled streets, and the vigour and happiness of a real spring day. A small, unspoilt village, with a pub, a couple of shops and a group of houses with wooden walls and steep grey rooves. I wish you were here – it is very beautiful. This evening, the night train to Vienna, and with luck by tomorrow morning I should have further news of where I shall go next, for I am still ‘en route’. A smell of Spring, and ‘Vermouth Syphon’. Today, sun and a fresh fall of snow on the Dolomites, a cold sharp wind.
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