Journal excerpt from Sunday March 7, 2010

Despite the lovely day trip into Chicago to the zoo for ashleigh’s birthday yesterday, I am experiencing this strange desire for isolation of study into the vast number of books before me (romantic manifesto ayn rand, dialogue with death by Koestler, to reread envy the frightened….) which has seemed to transform itself into an actual physical longing that is slowly spreading from the center of my abdomen to the entirety of my body.

To be alone in the woods with nothing but my books to warm me seems the greatest of all treasures.

Please darling future self, as soon as is possible, which I assume will be this summer directly after physics, go away into the woods, to the path less travelled by so as to experience the difference promised by Frost.


Samantha said...

I think love of literature is in our DNA, for why else would we write it?

Ariana Cunningham said...

ingrained within.