Good music, freshly roasted coffee, and a cat-warmed lap—encouragements for the senses to fight a bit of the gray blue haze outside. Reading has been coming along smoothly so far this month. I finished Acts of Desperation a couple of days ago. I liked it, which surprised me after what I’ve heard about it. I’m currently halfway through Murakami’s The City and Its Uncertain Walls, which I’m reading with a friend. They put it so well when they said that it’s such a comfort to be in Murakami’s world. It’s such a specific feeling. I’m making slow progress with it because I’ve been stopping constantly to write my thoughts on the margins, but that’s how I know I’m having a great time. There has never been any need to rush, after all.
