Tuesday Sunday, March 26 24, 1929 Monday, March 25, 1929
My crate-bed was fine. All went fine except once during the night when I awoke to find Frank’s feet parked on top of me. How he ever got them there is a mystery to me because he was sitting down below me in a deck chair. I was up at six, just before sunrise. The moon still shone brightly in the west, close above the water. It was so beautiful that I took a picture of it. Suddenly it grew pale and in the east Amen-Ra appeared above the sea from his all-night trip through the Underworld.
Before 6:30 the sun’s rays burned hot on one’s neck. By nine we were roasting. I worked on a story till noon when it was finally finished. An Italian man from Venice likes to come around to watch us and talk. He speaks English and today told us something of what to expect ahead, as did an American who is traveling 2nd, I think. The heat has our legs, ankles, and feet all out of proportion. My ankles are hardly discernible, so swollen are my legs, nearly one-third larger. My wrists are so large that I can’t get my fingers around them anymore. This afternoon Frank cut the bottom of my britches off and I sewed them, so now I have a nice cool pair of shorts.