half day ― Florence ― & Turin.
A miserably sleepless night. Morning gray. ― After breakfast ― I work a little at the Florence olives. But I am mortissimo (Absolutely dead.)) in body & soul. ― Yet looking back ― even as far as 6 years old ― (at the clown & circus at Highgate,) ― & then to all since ― how can it be otherwise? The wonder is, things are as well as they are through constant fighting.
Gray ― & showery at times. ― Worked from 2 to 5 at the Turin ― buildings & trees: all ill.
A weary day: ― but when
I have I not been weary in winter time ― or indeed anywhere when settled? ― or indeed ― anywhere?
Wrote to Jane Hunt.
&, before dinner, a good deal to Lucy Francillon ― kind good Lucy.
Dined. The Maudes seem always away now-a-days ― & oft in the “stilly night” is the order of the day.
Penned out large Jumerka Janina sketch: ― & so bed at 10 ―
[Transcribed by Marco Graziosi from Houghton Library, Harvard University, MS Eng. 797.3.]