Feel sad now. Real Ernest Dowson, wandering lonely around London Charing Cross Road and Shaftesbury Avenue sad. Cynara sad. I miss —— so much. But more than ever that sadness will drive me back to Brussels to stare lifelessly out of windows while drinking. Why will she ever come back to me now. Who knows what twists & turns may happen in the future. There have been so many between us. Will there really be no more? And yet I look at that new picture of —– and I think Christ, she is so sexy! If I was to bump into —– now I would want to f–k her brains out, and that is what freedom brings you. No one else. But I miss ——. Oh but Christ how sexy was —–.