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Aleister Crowley Diary Entry Monday, 17 September 1934
John left for S’hampton. I for Alton.
The Swan [Hotel]—I remembered every detail of the old garden with its sham Japanese rock pools and stone toadstools—and the Bowling Green. A delightful dignified and costly place, all tiny and folly. Inhabited by gasping corpses—it’s as dear as the Metropole [Hotel] at Brighton.
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