It's Thursday. I know this might come as a surprise to you, but it is. I'm sitting with black coffee doing what feels like overtime, as I wait for Friday and Saturday, when I will be moving my life in boxes of varying sizes to another abode. It's not far to move (a mile or two) but it feels like a thousand different degrees of effort away. And so, I will put my news into this letter, unstick a stray piece of parcel tape from my arm, and wonder what you are all doing at this moment in time.
THINGS THAT HAPPENED ON THE JOURNAL THIS WEEK:
Something about bath mats which probably seems horribly out of keeping with the rest of all this, and a couple of paragraphs from the recent past.
BOOK-RELATED NEWS:
I've realised it's vaguely possible that you wonder what I actually do all day, but I don't have especially straightforward or orderly days, let alone weeks, so it's difficult to explain. Right now, I'm in between books, which means more admin than normal, more running to and from the post office with tax forms, more trying to be personable on social media than normal, and yet still a good deal of research and rummaging ready for book number three. I hope that I'm growing into a better-shaped human.
Yesterday an envelope arrived from Japan (by default I keep the exteriors because they seem so exotic and the paper is always oddly beautiful) and I opened it to find a copy of the Kinokuniya Best Books 2017 leaflet announcement thing. This reminded me of how amazing and ludicrous it is that they chose Lost in Translation as their No.1 book
(I'm still on the ceiling wondering what happened).
A THING NOBODY HAS SEEN, EVER:
This quick illustration for the French word sillage,a recent discovery.
The end.
I said last week that this would be filled with cardboard boxes and exhaustion, but in fact Thursday has been a great way to get around the problem. Is it Spring where you are? Can you look out of your window and see blossom trees or magnolia buds or grass greener than runner beans? Are you dreaming of the summer sun stroking its way down pavements and reflecting pieces of gold back into your eyes so bright that you have to look away?
Farewell, see you next sometime.
Copyright © 2017 Ella Frances Sanders, All rights reserved.