[hello november]
where on earth has this year gone? all i have are memories, memories of pizza at the beach and wind and freezing lecture rooms and nervousness and studying and brown boxes and new places. which I guess are good memories to have.
in other news,i am sick. i hate being sick. I have to drink corenza c all the time whichwas probably used as a torture method 100 years ago. However lying in bed today gave me a chance to finish 'a room of one's own' which is such an amazing book.
[could i have 'marshmallow tuesday'? or should i leave that for someone else to do? at any rate. tonight is the perfect night for hotchocolate with marshmallows]
"Now my belief is that this poet who never wrote a word and was buried at the cross-roads still lives. She lives in you and in me,and in many other women who are not here tonight, for they are washing up the dishes and putting the children to bed. But she lives, for great poets do not die; they are continuing presences; they need only the opportunity to walk among us in the flesh." - A room of one's own
yay its almost wednesday. night children x
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