A curious seaside feeling in the air today. It reminds me of lodgings on a parade at Easter. Everyone leaning against the wind, nipped and silenced.
All pulp removed.
This windy corner. And Nessa is at Brighton, and I am imagining how it would be if we could infuse souls.
Octavia's story. Could I englobe it somehow? English youth in 1900.
L. is doing the rhododendrons . . .