(no subject)
Cravings for London. The vastness, the river, the buildings, the hum. Artful Dodger delusions. The grandeur and the squalor. It gets romanticised in my mind. The image condenses to a lonely, beautiful London park dripping in the rain through railings. I miss it, though what I miss is only in my mind.
Finished my advanced highers. I now have to turn my mind to Virgil and Cicero. I like the people who set the latin course, whoever they are. It's all golden boughs, lost souls wandering for centuries in the underworld, corrupt governors throwing debauched parties, withered old ferrymen, tearful reunions, suicide, gods, goddesses, and pirates.
On saturday I start earning money for wanderings around Eastern Europe and eating bears' paws in Romania's second city.
Finished my advanced highers. I now have to turn my mind to Virgil and Cicero. I like the people who set the latin course, whoever they are. It's all golden boughs, lost souls wandering for centuries in the underworld, corrupt governors throwing debauched parties, withered old ferrymen, tearful reunions, suicide, gods, goddesses, and pirates.
On saturday I start earning money for wanderings around Eastern Europe and eating bears' paws in Romania's second city.