Sunday, May 11:
R. had a good night; he works on his article, and I do a lot of shopping. The weather is raw and gray, no sign of a change. Yesterday R. thought it would be fine on the Sabbath, and there really was a wonderful sunset. Today it clears up, and R. goes for a walk that is new to him, from the Birk via Konnersreuth. He is very vexed with the two dogs, whom he could not get away from Swallows’ Pond.
In the evening we read a book, Monodramen, which has just arrived, astonished as usual by such productions.