"Dear Harry,
PLEASE sell this to the New Yorker as I am VERY VERY VERY poor … I STILL HAVE NO HOT WATER. I STILL HAVE NO HOT WATER. I shall go crazy."
— Letter clip from his missing diary reveals W. H. Auden's days as a literary hustler. Given his condition, he wouldn't even be able to make Patti Smith’s lettuce soup recipe for starving artists.
Вот так иногда тумблер радует меня не только кудрявыми мальчиками. Неожиданно.