upon a feast...

[_fissures]

When I began this entry, the sun was barely skimming the skyline, and long branches in the distance were illusively gaunt and withered, wearing the glamour of a day that was almost cold and sterile enough to be Winter. But persuaded by the normative should, I read R v Ireland and Symes v Mahon instead. Now the night is truly plunged in darkness

Comments

[andberlin]

i am here, aware, just short of enough time to read this fully and let it all digest...

[_fissures]

i understand that only too well.
every day the spaces between minutes seem to shrink and the sun sets faster, though I know logically that days should be growing longer now.
but my days seem full because they are overstuffed by minutinae and routine. I hope yours bring more joy/are quick breaths of delight.

[_fissures]

note to self: cease writing such long, lubrugious entries that absorb my entire evening, until i look up from the keyboard, bleary-eyed, and find that time has all but melted away. they are too long to write, too long to read...

[andberlin]

well, my upstairs flatmate, on hearing of my being a stifled writer, longing for something mechanical to create my wares on has kindly offered me the use of her computer during the day while she is at work. i can feel time relax its grip, no more paying, looking over my shoulder for the time anymore...