Afghanistan, July 1969 – Page 17

Canine police of isides[?]
Afghan hound covered in sores
loads[?]. Gold of sloping hills

The Tchaikhana “we don’t smoke tobacco
we only smoke hashish. Plain Hazara
boy leaning against the wall. The road is
lam[?] heads through woods where there are
deer, wild goats and all manner of
rivers[?]. The chief of police has promised
us horses.

Pausing at tent of  Sannens[?] calvary school
Three tennis[?] around corn-country men
Three young Cadirs[?]. Three bottles of champaign
Waves of the sea.

I am forced into the act of writing
something by the intense scribble scribble
scribble of Peter and Nigel whose scribbling
tore through my brain as I tried to sleep.
Peter, I feel sure, was moralizing the murderers[?]
into a moral niche. He had moralized
on slavery this morning. Some well[?] and tall
story of European women being sold at a