![]() |
none to my own Just finished Heart of Darkness, by Joseph Conrad. It's fairly short in length but I was struggling to keep myself from putting it down. Not it that was boring by any means. No, I rather found myself stumbling through blindly and taking in words without the slightest clue that I was still reading until I was forced to read out loud, embellishing the tale with accents and all. Mind, I have the utmost admiration for Mr. Conrad's writing talent--now if only I can figure out what in the bloody world have I just read? I'm left however with a pervasive feeling of hollowness--perhaps remnants of yesterday's lethargy but more than likely a result of the tale's lack of catharsis. I want to read more--I'm in the mood for it. Why if my hands were to just stray across the Bible, I might find myself reading it all over again. But I'm obligated to other homework. Then again--I might be in just the right kind of remorselessness where I have been known to liltingly utter a 'Fuck it' and proceed to pursue my whims. We'll see. 10.27.02 - 7:20 p.m.
|
|
![]() |
![]() |
| ::antiquities::et-moi::stick-its::folds::kitty-call::et-tu:: |