April 16, 1932
Nine o’clock I came back from the Dinner Dance. The concert finished at that time, and I did not feel like staying for the dance. Sitting there among all these people I felt lost, and without knowing why, I felt one of these moods come upon me. Maybe because without you I felt more alone in a crowd than when I am myself, for then I have my thoughts. Maybe because the people were so noisy, and not paying any attention to the program. I do not know dearest what it was, it may be because both the public and the artists were unbearable. Women with folded arms with more flesh than needed, sitting there like hens who after they have laid their eggs, saying we are through, we are worked out, we are empty. And men with open faces, that don’t express anything at all. Young couples, who instead of listening, seem to find something to laugh about just when a number is being played, or sung.
I do not know what it was, but I was glad to get home. I undressed, lay on the bed, tried to read (I have gotten today “Dorian Gray by Wilde”) but could not concentrate. I felt this longing for you overcoming me completely. I wept, as never before, my heart seemed to break.
After an hour’s weeping I felt better. I began to read your letters, looking at the clock, wondering, and wishing that I might get a special delivery, but when it passed 11:15 I lost my hopes, and almost made up my mind to go to sleep heavy hearted, when the letter was delivered. Reading it I lightened up, and grew calm. And now Beloved one, Heart of my heart I shall try to go to sleep, for my eyes burn.
Good night Libinker.