It has, in many ways, been an impossible thing to try and anchor the summer down. I looked down at my feet and then it was September; the birds seem more grey and already the colder shades of blue are struggling to make it past the cloud cover. I find myself wanting to decide on some event, or some place
I spent seven weeks of the summer away from home. After weeks of travelling, I began to perceive that the people around me were in that "longer stretches of time when they are marked almost entirely by daily, mirror-like routines." To be honest, it took some of the fun out of my trip. I wanted them to join me in the excitement or at least to recognize that their lives were actually exciting for me to experience (even driving the city streets of Bristol narrowed to one lane by parked cars). I feel the same kind of excitement when I read other people's substack newsletters. I wonder what it would be like to have weeds and rhubarb--or even a daily routine.
I spent seven weeks of the summer away from home. After weeks of travelling, I began to perceive that the people around me were in that "longer stretches of time when they are marked almost entirely by daily, mirror-like routines." To be honest, it took some of the fun out of my trip. I wanted them to join me in the excitement or at least to recognize that their lives were actually exciting for me to experience (even driving the city streets of Bristol narrowed to one lane by parked cars). I feel the same kind of excitement when I read other people's substack newsletters. I wonder what it would be like to have weeds and rhubarb--or even a daily routine.