Christmas is over, and my mother has returned home. With her has left what small feeling of Christmas I had this year. As time always tells, you never know what you have until it has left your heart, your side, your mind, or your life.
I am slacking, I feel, in my reading. Although I have a whole week and a half before school starts again, I fear that I may lose good reading time just pondering the little things. I do plan to get to the beach to just sit in front of the water, no matter how cold it may be there. My own little trip to see what my Remains of the Day has to bring.
Suffice to say, I have made no further progress in the novel.
It's interesting to think of what potentially a trip can do for one's self. Rejuvenation? Contemplation? Pontification? Melancholia? Nostalgia? Joy? How about just a little inspiration; that would be all that I desire. Surely there must be something that can help with this writer's block, or reader's block, or both. For now I say adieu with a quote from The Picture of Dorian Gray:
There was no doubt that curiosity had much to do with it - curiosity and the desire for new experiences; yet it was not a simple but rather a very complex passion (63). - Oscar Wilde
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