This new place is starting to feel like home. Out with the old & in with the new. It never feels too permanent but it fulfills the place labeled "home" somewhere in my mind. And even though I feel like I've got my life in a suitcase, always running away, I've got my hideaway because my space hasn't really been feeling like my own as of late. . .
Anyway, the new lesson from the classroom is that reading inherently gives a reader a model of how to read. Isn't that exciting? Or am I alone on this one? All of the details that a writer dismisses, gives us the ok to dismiss it too. Upon rereading, you find out why it was misread or thrown to the back of our minds as already read. Learning this is like rediscovering the intricacies of reading and the entire act of reading even. Clearly this isn't making as much sense as I'd hoped.
Onto another train of thought, I hope to never become a lover of things but someone who is always invested in the dim & nearly inexplainable connections of human vitality and even the lack thereof. Self discovery is the most exciting adventure any of us will ever embark on. If all we're fighting against is time then what's left to stop us other than ourselves? As simple as that may sound,we all know what time is but how do we explain it? So much to do & such little time. . .
If Time is a lover then I am caught in her stead.
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