{funambulism}

Apparently I’m a writer now, speciality subject staves. What do I think of that? I don’t know. I’m happy sure, in that it feels like progress (even if it is only the next desk) but at the moment I could just collapse. I think its lack of air or light, and the continuance of my Leopold bloom obsession from yesterday (bought enormous quantities of bloody liver, and proceeded to eat with polenta and onions to disgust of veggie flatmate.) I’ve been back for 3 weeks,and I really, really need a big break in the countryside with air, a pub, and places to walk. Let me out!