A Weekend in Bognor Regis, Pt. I.

Sums It All Up.

This gingerbread cookie's face pretty much echoes how i feel today. A presentation every week and two essays in seven days = not fun.

It's Funny.

It's funny how sometimes i feel like i have so much to say about where i'm living and what i'm doing and everything in between. But other times there are lulls. That's not to say that things haven't been busy, it's been much the opposite. This month is a whirlwind of assessed essays and presentations and a grand finale of a final exam that leads into march and a much needed break. Last week was a week of culture, every day something different to fill the pages of my planner. Wednesday: violin concert in an old church followed by a wander through SoHo and finally a late dinner at a Turkish restaurant. Thursday: a play (The Caretaker) off of Trafalgar Square, followed by a wine bar, followed by dinner at one of the oldest Indian restaurants in London (Veeraswamy). Friday: a trek to the top of Primrose Hill (tea in hand), followed by The Museum of Everything, followed by a dinner party complete with a game of scrabble. Busy busy busy.

Black diamonds, yes please.

+

Sometimes.

Sometimes it's blue skies from sunrise to sunset in London. It's rare, but sometimes.

Gold Sperrys? Yes please.

gimme

Life Looks Like This, London Edition.

Another Great One Lost.

"...as much as anything else, it was the stare, not so paradoxically, of a privacy-lover who, once his privacy has been invaded, doesn't quite approve when the invader just gets up and leaves, one-two-three, like that." (Franny & Zooey)

There's something terribly sad about realizing that the last of your favorite authors has died. The man who firmly sat in your top three, the one you knew you could always come back to. To return to Salinger after months, or years, rereading passages of your favorite book always felt as though you were returning to a best friend you hadn't seen in ages. Thank you for being there through the wonderful and terrible times Mr. Salinger.

Paris, in two parts. Pt. II.

Paris, in two parts. Pt. I.