Monday. Rest. We meet the boat of Mr Robert and the Pole who lived in Neufchâtel. Big makeshift rafts made of jugs, paddled with uprooted saplings. Our sailors bring a whore on board, who dances - dance done back to back or head to head. At sunset the Nile is flat, the sky pink, the ground black. On the river’s blue, a pink tint, a reflection of the sky. Before us comes a boat; the sailors sing while paddling. All black in the surrounding light. It boards near us. At dinner Joseph surpasses himself cooking a pâté, as he did in the morning with an omelet.

He comes back from the city - he went to see a girl “who has… (gestures, a pumpkin), which are hard as” (knocking on my writing table). We go.

A primitive brothel. It’s a hut of silt, one must crawl to get in. One can only be crouched down or bent. The roof is covered with bundles of reeds. The lamp is in a hole in the wall. This girl has an horrible face - nice way of getting naked and down flat on the mat in one move - the door didn’t close - 10 piastres for the two of us, Max and I - we think it’s cheap - the sailor at the (non-closing) door claims it’s enough. Moonlight - two dogs on a wall - two wood beams jutting from a wall hurt me.