Jena, Dec. 1st.
Last night I dreamed I did go to England, and I found you in a room with
a crowd of people, and you nodded not unkindly, and went on talking to
the others, and I waited in my corner till they should have gone, waited
for the moment when we would run into each other's arms; and with the
last group you too went out talking and laughing, and did not come back
again. It was not that you wanted to avoid me; you had simply forgotten
that I was there. And I crept out into the street, and it was raining,
and through the rain I made my way back across Europe to my home, to the
one place where they would not shut me out, and when I opened the door
all the empty future years were waiting for me there, gray, vacant,
listless.