… Good gracious, Jerry, you’ll probably have to marry the girl.’

Joanna was half serious, half laughing.

It was at that moment that I made a very important discovery.

‘Damn it all,’ I said. ‘I don’t mind if I do. In fact – I should like it.’

A very funny expression came over Joanna’s face. She got up and said dryly, as she went toward the door, ‘Yes, I’ve known that for some time…’

She left me standing, glass in hand, aghast at my new discovery.

The Soul bird sang:
“My beloved Jay, Look into my eyes.
Look deeply, and you will remember hope.
You will remember the power of your mind,
The great power, big as the sky, that makes all things possible.

Look straight into my eyes.
I can restore to you the hope you’ve lost.
I can enable restore to you the hope you’ve lost.
I can enable you to meet your infinite, eternal min.
That is what I can do for you.

I am your soul.
I, who restore your lost hope, am your soul.

Empty-page staring again tonight. It’s maddening. I suppose people who don’t write (like the Connollies) imagine anything that can be though can be expressed. Well, I don’t know. I can’t do it. It’s this sort of thing that makes me belittle the whole business: what’s the good of a ‘talent’ if you can’t do it when you want to? What should we think of a woodcarver who couldn’t woodcarver? or a pianist who couldn’t play the piano? Bah, likewise grrr.

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