11, / 12. Aug. 1919
Emma, the 2 oldest daughters and I are sort of guests of a rich peasant in southern Siberia or South Africa.
He practices ostrich breeding. low thatched building.
I prepare a lemonade with ice to combat the heat.
Emma reaches with her hand into it and spills the stuff.
I am furious and throw all the glasses against the wall.
They don’t break but fall like a rubber ball to the ground.
I leave the room and go into a type of barn.
There is a low wide table, on which remarkably old books lie.
I take one in brown leather: “Acta Thomasina.” The pages are of brown pressed leather.
In the middle of each page is an archaic figure of a prophet with his words in hieroglyphic signs alongside. ~Carl Jung, The Black Books, Vol. VII, Page 202