Sitting around re-reading One Hundred Years of Solitude inflicts a sad nostalgia on me without fail. Every hundred pages of solitude makes me worry that my life is passing by, and I'm missing those delicious bits. Everything we've done in that class makes me feel that school isn't so important. Not only this book does it, all that Transcendentalist
(
Read more... )
Comments 2
(The comment has been removed)
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment