I have an egg.
A perfect egg.
I am lost in admiration of my perfect egg.
But I am hungry.
I must break the egg.
I break the egg.
It is awful.
Slimy, wet, with a bulbous yellow eye.
And I am sad.
I have an omelet!
A perfect omelet!
I am lost in admiration of my perfect omelet.
But I am still hungry.
I must eat the omelet.
I eat the omelet.
It is good.
But now it is gone, all gone, every crumb.
And I am sad.
When I go musing all alone
Thinking of divers things fore-known.
When I build castles in the air,
Void of sorrow and void of fear,
Pleasing myself with phantasms sweet,
Methinks the time runs very fleet.
All my joys to this are folly,
Naught so sweet as melancholy.
When I lie waking all alone,
Recounting what I have ill done,
My thoughts on me then tyrannise,
Fear and sorrow me surprise,
Whether I tarry still or go,
Methinks the time moves very slow.
All my griefs to this are jolly,
Naught so mad as melancholy.
continue reading book...
Today was a quiet day, more mist than rain, more grey than stormy. I set out for the bird sanctuary in the Northwest corner of the state, but hadn't gone more than an hour when I realized that I had forgotten my wallet. With my driver's license. I carefully turned around, and just as carefully made my way home to pick it up. When I was fully legal again, it was too late for the bird sanctuary. Instead I made my way to one of my other favorite parks.