3rd Aug. 98
MY DEAR GARNETT
I am not dead tho' only half alive. Very soon I shall send
you some Ms. I am writing hopelessly but still I am writ-
ing. How I feel I cannot express. Pages accumulate and
the story stands still.
I feel suicidal.
Drop me a line and tell me where and how you are. If
you could come down it would be an act of real friendship
and also of charity.
(...)
I am afraid there's something wrong with my thinking
apparatus. I am utterly out of touch with my work and
I can't get in touch. All is darkness.
Ever yours
JOSEPH CONRAD
Sunday, August 23, 2009
endless days of marching through hellish boglands
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