Private journal entry.
[[Written in code, which, when cracked, is written in Occitan]]

There is no limit to my stupidity.

I am in no position to even entertain thoughts of that nature toward anyone, most particularly toward anyone - of that gender, of that occupation, of both of those things at the same time.

The entire tour was a stupid idea; I should have let it rest with the chess game; I should certainly not have told him even as much as I did, for all the care I took in choosing my words and for all that the past of twenty years ago bears nothing on today.  Singing in the street - am I 16 yet?  I made an ass of myself, and came dangerously near making a bigger one.

I will need to learn four or five more languages in which to call myself stupid.  I wonder if there is a language which has seventy-five different words for it, like the Eskimos have seventy-five different words for snow.

Entertaining he may be, for all he has not yet outgrown his youthful philosophy (and poetry, for the love of God and all the Saints), but that is all.

Qu'ieu no me puesc ni voill a los cobrire.