I’d thought everyone would be up and where is Ellen where did the wall go? Now I know: it wasn’t me who stole into this house, but a thief, who took with him the proof of what this place used to be like and left me here with a memory. There was a wall there, but now only redwood trees madrone and pine out of the fog out a big window. A couch now instead of Ellen’s bed. Ellen’s bed? Did it ever belong here? And now Ellen is sleeping in it I suppose letting the sun shine on the Sunday morning while the fog is leaving the trees in a blue sky.
10 August 1975