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 All caught up. This was a bit of a long process. My first attempt to draw a pine tree turned into a black mudbath, so I whitewashed my journal page, and stuck a piece of torn yellow paper on top and tried again. Looking forward to drawing perfume or something scented tomorrow. 


Then from the sad west turning wearily, I saw the Pines against the white north sky. Very beautiful, and still, and bending over, their sharp black heads against a quiet sky. 

And there was peace in them; and I was happy, and forgot to play the lover, And laughed, and did nolonger wish to die; being glad of you,

O pine-trees and the sky!

                                  -Rupert Brooke