now, there are four books left. i have had an exciting journey through perceptions and worlds, and humanity.
i almost feel like the protagonist of joe haldeman’s camouflage…someone watching the humanity, in this case, the books, from an outside inaccessible to the writers.
one, me, still has no idea of what a good book maketh. some of the books have been excellent, and some have been gorgeous, and some have been boring to the core. i need time to think. the books are many, and there is only one me.
meanwhile, the stitches removed, my foot is bloody bleeding as soon as i try to walk anywhere beyond the downstairs. so i am keeping to bed as much as possible, slowly healing and rapidly translating. the translation keeps me from going insane. thank you riddell, you made my june.