T. E. Lawrence to S. L. Newcombe
[aged seven]

[Karachi]

 24.2.27.

Monster,

Look how your envelope wandered over the whole wide East! But it caught me up at last, like the Hound of Heaven. Your picture is that of a ferocious imp. Rifle and equipment! I'll try and send you a photograph of me like that. I look bloodthirsty too, then. You should hear (or rather you shouldn't hear) what airmen mutter beneath and above their breaths when the officers tell us to come out and play with them publicly! It's a dreadful insult for an airman to be disguised as a soldier. Even for a moment. And we look such jokes. You see I haven't managed to get a real photo of myself. There is a camera in our room, but its owner isn't very good at using it, yet. However he is getting better. And meanwhile here is what is called a bust of me. A bust is a thing appropriate in my case. I have deserved, provoked, encouraged, more than one bust in my day. This one was done by an artist called Eric Kennington, in England last December. So it is quite the latest. In gilt brass. That also is appropriate, as a metal. You will have to learn that word APPROPRIATE. It keeps on bobbing up today.

Love and brickbats to yourself. My regards to your mother. Tell your father I salute him with both hands.

T.E.S.