i had two, i couldn't help it. it's raining outside, it's nice even though i got wet. i bought a book of simone de beauvoir's letters to nelson algren tonight. it's beautiful.

'k.l.m royal dutch airlines, newfoundland

saturday afternoon, 17 mai 1947

my own nice, wonderful, and beloved local youth, you made me cry once more, but these were sweet tears as everything which come from you. i just sat in the airplane and began to read the book, and then just wished to see your handwriting, and i came to the first page, regretting not to ask you to write anything on it, and there it was, the tender, loving and lovely lines you had written for me [I send this book to you/That it may pass/Where you will pass:/Down murmurous evening light/Of storied streets/In your own France/Simone, I send this poem there, too/That part of me may go with you.] so i put my forehead against the window and cried, with the beautiful blue sea below me, and crying was sweet because it was love, your love and my love, our love. i love you. the taxi driver asked me, "is he your husband?" "no," i said. "ah! a friend?" and he added with a sympathetic voice: "he looked so sad!" i could not help but say: "we are very sad to part. paris is so far." and then he began to speak very nicely of paris. i am glad you did not come with me. at madison avenue and la guardia, there were people i know, with french voices and french faces, the worst french voices and faces, which can really be very bad. i was a little groggy, not even able to cry then, just groggy. then the airplane went away. i love airplanes. i think, when you are at a high pitch of emotion, it is the only way of travelling which fits with your own heart. airplane and love, the sky and the sadness and the hope were the only thing. i thought of you, remembering carefully everything, and i read the book which i like better than the other one, and we had whiskey and a nice lunch: creamed chicken, chocolate ice cream. i thought you should have liked so much the landscapes, the clouds and the sea, the coast, the woods, the villages--we saw the ground very well and you would have smiled with your warm, beautiful and childish smile.

when we arrived above newfoundland it was already the end of the afternoon, though only 3pm in new york. the island is very beautiful, all dark pines and sad lakes, with a touch of snow here and there. you would like it, too. we landed and we are to stay here for two hours. where are you, just now? maybe in an airplane yourself. when you'll find our little home, i'll be there, hidden under the bed and everywhere. now i'll always be with you, my beloved one, as a loving wife with her beloved husband. we shall never have to wake up, because it is not a dream; it is a wonderful true story which is only the beginning. i feel you with me, and where i shall pass you will pass, not the look only but all of you. i love you. there is no more to say. you take me in your arms and i cling to you and i kiss you as i kissed you.

-your simone'

i like her letters very much, i think they are exactly as i wish to care for someone with words.

it makes me like her very much. i wish to read all her books now.