three men
carrying buckets
I watched from my window afar,

three men
dipping their fingers
in liquid I figured was tar,

three men
smearing their bodies
with wine milked hard from a boar,

three men
dancing with passion
knowing they're soon to be four.

Excerpt from an unpublished personal manuscript by English children's author and poet A. L. Morrison. Undated, est. 1909, early September.

East Sussex County Asylum, October 21st, 1909.

My beloved Arnold,

It has been only five months since the disappearance of our eldest child ripped us our hearts apart. [implication that her "hysterical" grieving landed her in an institution.]

[implication that the nurses are weirdly cagey about what happened to her son.]

Please write back, I beg of you. This is my fifth letter to you and I have no correspondence to show for it. I am not angry with you, my love. I need not but a letter to know you are alright.

Yours forever,

Diana Morrison.

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