and I'd give up forever to touch you.
To Britain again. And good lord, this coffee's thick. I don't think I've quite got the art of Hestia's new coffee machine yet. Eh. I'll live, I've had worse coffee. Hestia does look as though she's about to choke, though. Which makes life interesting. Choking on things. Food, coffee, words, thoughts, choking when the going gets tough. Choking's what I do, it'd seem. Livia did take great pleasure in coming out with these stunning comments that made me breathe in whatever I was drinking and nearly die. Might be an exagguration. I also choke when the going gets tough, but it...it really is for the best. Not everyone's a bloody hero. I'm certainly not. Does that make me a disloyal husband, not wanting to fight for revenge? But fighting out of revenge is useless. Fanaticism is the weapon of the impotent. Or something, I probably remembered that quote wrong.
Revenge drives men to stupid things. That's been proved to me already. But it's difficult to hold back, and with every person lost, you take one step closer to the edge, don't you? I'd like Hestia to walk the other way. I think she is, but only through hope. I have to keep that alive.
Am I just rambling to avoid the most obvious point here? I...me. Nick. Mon Dieu. What do I say about that? I don't even feel unfaithful. I should, but I don't. I should be wracked with guilt and admonishing myself or trying to justify it. But in the end, everything that has happened and does happen with him just...is, and it doesn't need thinking about. It's all about series of moments. Making the right decisions then and there. I'll write to Nick. That feels right now. I just wish I could touch him. Just once.
Wales is a wonderful place when it doesn't rain. If it doesn't rain. There's supposed to be pretty mountains out there, somewhere. Can I see them? No. I can barely see the cow in the field across the road. Damn weather. Not to mention it's language sold all it's vowels to Finnish at a cut rate price, but I can't say that too loudly, I'll get beaten up.
So much for the British summer.