Do not imagine, because you find these lines in your journal that I have been trespassing. You know I have not - and where else shall I leave a love letter? For I long to write you a love-letter tonight.
You are all about me - I seem to breathe you, hear you, feel you in me and of me.
What am I doing here? You are away. I have seen you in the train, at the station, driving up, sitting in the lamplight, talking, greeting people, washing your hands... And I am here - in your tent - sitting at your table.
There are some wall-flower petals on the table and a dead match, a blue pencil and a Magdeburgische Zeitung. I am just as much at home as they.
letter from Katherine Mansfield to her lover