Sunday, March 4, 2007

"You're haunting this house with your whiteness."

It's chilly, windy, and rainy in London. The daffodils in Regents Park are coming into bloom, but that's small consolation when the sky insists on slate-grey every hour of the day and double-decker buses are drowning in puddles on Baker Street, never to be seen again. I badly need time with sun, sand, and surf. Camus said "No man makes a failure of his life if he lives in the sunlight." Where does that leave me?

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