Wherever she is. She has lost me now. In trying to find. I am not so much fearing for myself, but her, poor ting, she’s really got herself in a pickle. I am on the edge of keeling, dizzy, have to sit down like my blood pressure is all over the place. I’ve been drinking perhaps, not good. The disillusion, I wonder.
I know too much, it’s unfortunate; if I could be more naïve I’d at least have tried. Poor poor her.