I was writing a long play on a fable
suggested by one of my father’s early designs.
A king’s daughter loves a god seen in the luminous
sky above her garden in childhood, and to be worthy
of him and put away mortality, becomes without pity
& commits crimes, and at last, having made her way
to the throne by murder, awaits the hour among her
courtiers. One by one they become chilly and
drop dead, for, unseen by all but her, her god is
walking through the hall. At last he is at her
throne’s foot and she, her mind in the garden
once again, dies babbling like a child.