My Lover

I have been avoiding this - a description that goes beyond the white silk stockings and the lace handkerchief. Well, if you hear it from me, you hear it from the one person who has the right to say it. When he smiles, I laugh. When he is serious, I am as long faced as a horse. Yes, I desire him when I fall asleep. Yesterday I composed a Rondo with a tune he whistled on a sleigh ride in the woods. During this same sleigh ride, he took my hand from out of my muff and kissed it as Mama was not looking. He has a small tuft of golden hair inside each nostril and I saw the reflection of my eyes in his - we were that close. It will cost me six kreuzer per sheet to have my music copied, so being poor and unwilling to copy it myself, I will send him the original. In my next entry, I hope to have some good news but I must neither rejoice nor worry too soon. N

Fear Itself

Everyone has something to hide or at least thinks so, which is much the same. Mine is fear itself. I am not afraid of spiders but I am of a pair of hands that hides under my bed at night, waiting to grab hold of my ankles as I leap onto my coverlet. I have perfected the art of the leap, making sure that the lower part of me is in the air when I dive, out of reach from this headless, bodyless mannikin. Since I am always telling Wolfie I am fearless, I am afraid he will see me flying and my secret will be out. N.

Connections

I have no great hopes of anything happening in Munich. Frau von Durst has chicken pox. My brother's opera is delayed. Papa has said that he doesn't wish to work for the Elector under any circumstances and running about as he has done these last weeks and teaching singers to suck eggs when they know how to do so already is a dog's life. We are all to return to Salzburg and my dear Mama forthwith. I have made an extraordinary discovery this morning. I am my father in petticoats. N.