at the middle and is caught in the red arms of the pitiful Saint. The fingers of the Magdalen are bent in eloquent supplication.
The blackness of hell’s night behind—the unearthly greenish supernatural light upon the figures—on Christ’s dead, sinewed, twisted, riven gigantic body and on the living flesh of the other figures.
The sly face of the Virgin in the wing of the Annunciation—the eyes slanting up under lowered lids in a sly leer—the fat loose sensual mouth half open, with the tongue visible—a look of sly bawdiness over all.
The enormous and demoniac intelligence that illuminates the piece in Grünewald’s Altar—the angels playing instruments in “La Vierge Glorifiée par les Anges”—the faces have a sinister golden light—an almost unholy glee. You can hear mad heavenly music. This is not true with Italians—syrup and sugar.
This is the greatest and also the most “modern” picture I have ever seen.
Christmas Week—1924: Returning to Paris from Strasbourg: The approach to Paris through the Valley of the Marne—Winter—The very magnificent rainbow—the rocking clacketing train.
The suburbs of Paris—Dark—The little double-deckers rattling past loaded with people—The weary approaches to a great city—Endless repetition—monotonous endlessness—The sadness of seeing people pass you in a lighted train or subway. Why is this?
PARIS: There is nothing that I do not know about Paris—That sounds like the foolishest boast but that is true—I am sitting on the terrace of the Taverne Royale—Rue Royale—It is winter—it is cold—but it is the same—to one hand the Madeleine—to the other the Place de la Concorde—to the right that of the Champs-Elysées—the Arc—the Bois—the fashionable quarters—the strumpet-houses of that district—the rue—the Troc—the Tower—the Champs-de-Mars—the Montparnasse section—the Latin Quarter—the bookshops—the cafés—the Ecole—the Institut—the St. Mich—the Ile—the Notre Dame—The Old Houses—the Rue de Rivoli—the Tour St. Jacques—the Carnavalet—the Hugo—Vosges—the Bastille—the Gare de Lyon—the Gare de l’Est—du Nord—the Montmartre—the Butte—the cafés—houses—the Rue Lepic—the Port Clignancourt—the La Villette—The Parc Monceau—the Bois—Great circle, unending universe of life, huge legend of dark time!
