Henry Miller, letter to Anaïs Nin, February 12th, 1932

[readingthedark]

At midnight last night my table was littered with notes that, unable to digest it all and frame a coherent letter, I gave up in despair and went to bed. The room has become infinitely more habitable since (after two weeks) I discovered that the light could be manipulated. I must tell you that the big coal box in my room is an object which I look at

Comments

[whiskeychick]

Ah, the brain of Henry Miller.

[readingthedark]

At first, I just wanted to feel like what it must have been like to write to Anais, but it was interesting, in typing it, to get a slight vicarious sensation of what it felt like to write it. (Also: Writers writing notes before composing letters. I'm glad to be reminded of that.)