||[Aug. 19th, 2015|10:23 pm]
I had one a couple of days ago. I'm not good with words, so I won't try to explain it to you.
It's a ghost town here, but that's exactly why I like it (of course). I do however wish that fewer people deleted their journals. I like to read them sometimes. It's strange to me to read past discussions and remember nothing about them. Past lives.
Why do some things seem so far away that I almost question their reality, while others feel way to close to heart?
One of my life's goals for the past six years or so has been to read Proust. To get all the way through In Search of Lost Time. It is now on my Kindle and I have made one failed attempt at getting through it. I love parts of it, but it started putting me to sleep. I give up too easily. Always have.