Entry the Eighth
[after a rather quiet and solitary week, Lemony has discovered the Sunshine Room. he's sitting, soaking up the rays in an old-fashioned beach chair, one of those wood-and-striped-canvas folding types. he's got a glass of lemonade at his side on a beat-up wooden crate, and the journal open to listen in quietly on all the roommate shenanigans - but more importantly, he's staring out "to sea" and thinking]
This is quite like Briny Beach on a pleasant day ... though I do miss the sound of the trolley cars going by in the distance.
I wonder... I wonder if there are any volunteers, here in the castle.
[Written]
[in a very neat cursive]
Dear Residents of Paradisa,
I hope you are all enjoying your improvised lodgings, in some fashion. I am well aware that the advent of living with someone else is rather like choosing sides in a sports team: you can end up with someone who spectacularly compliments your own strengths and faults, or you can be left with someone who sabotages the equipment and steals the bullhorn for the recitation of lewd limericks. Also, if there are an odd number of players, you can also be left to sit on the sidelines and watch, which, if there are a great number of the latter sort of players, is not always a horrible thing: you then have time to fashion your own earplugs out of bits of grass.
That being said, I don't suppose there are any of you interested in culture, literature, quiet conversation, the putting out of fires both metaphorical and literal, or the simple pursuit of knowledge and good company? If you are, I would be interested in speaking with you.
With all due respect,
This is quite like Briny Beach on a pleasant day ... though I do miss the sound of the trolley cars going by in the distance.
I wonder... I wonder if there are any volunteers, here in the castle.
[Written]
[in a very neat cursive]
Dear Residents of Paradisa,
I hope you are all enjoying your improvised lodgings, in some fashion. I am well aware that the advent of living with someone else is rather like choosing sides in a sports team: you can end up with someone who spectacularly compliments your own strengths and faults, or you can be left with someone who sabotages the equipment and steals the bullhorn for the recitation of lewd limericks. Also, if there are an odd number of players, you can also be left to sit on the sidelines and watch, which, if there are a great number of the latter sort of players, is not always a horrible thing: you then have time to fashion your own earplugs out of bits of grass.
That being said, I don't suppose there are any of you interested in culture, literature, quiet conversation, the putting out of fires both metaphorical and literal, or the simple pursuit of knowledge and good company? If you are, I would be interested in speaking with you.
With all due respect,