How strong must a person be?

I feel like dry smoke. And smoke twists and turns inside, not knowing which way to go. Nothing is hotter than the heat of anger.

Charaxos-how the name burns my tongue, sears my tablet. It is impossible to concentrate!

It wasn't enough for us to quarrel over money! You, with your scarab, your Egyptian clothes, your obelisks, your slaves, your woman!

Perhaps Kleis is mistaken. Children are given to exaggeration.

I don't know what to believe.

Today, an earthquake shook our island, sloshing water from our courtyard fountain, making birds cry out. As the walls of the house trembled, I shut my eyes, thinking: No, not yet...there's still so much.

And I made up my mind to go out more, to get about more. With Kleis.

We need more time together.

How tall she is! With golden hair and mint eyes, she grows more like her father each day. I detect a restlessness in her nature. Is it because of what happened, or because she is with me? Or do I imagine it?

Her shoulders stoop, her face is sad. When I speak to her about it, she straightens and gazes far off, her eyes worried. Perhaps we make a strange pair.

Gems:

A horseman on a gold agate,

a Nike on chalcedony,

a nude girl on jasper,

a fighting lion on rock crystal...

Sappho is enjoying her collection:

the sun, in her bedroom, is all white.

She is all white.

The gems flash:

We see Sappho's face in her hand mirror,

the faces of her girls around her,

girls singing.

Mytilene