We are not wrong

And the need of completion has not been as dreading as I might have thought. Just proved, to myself, that the absence of my writing does not result in absence of mind. I've chosen reading instead of writing these last few days, since I'm determined to thick-skull myself through a 1000-page book within this year, in order to beat a Leg friend of mine. Even though I don't know his finishing time I'll be damned if I won't get through this book fast enough to at least threaten him.

Christmas is approaching. Yours truly has threaded popcorn on fabric strings to create some sort of old fashioned holiday decoration. At least it smells nice.

Also a fresh update is my addiction to an audio album. Traveled a long way, over the pond and all, to be possessed by me and cherished for the first time in its so far only industrial life as merely a product. Now it's so much more - it's a loophole, an escape route, a place where it doesn't really matter how things go. To say the least, music has always been freedom to me. And with the voice which sings the words of mind, I'm lost forever.