Girl versus demons

Days like this, it’s much too difficult to concentrate on reading a book. Even Capote. It’s a beautiful Spring day, and very late arriving. I just keep looking about, eyes a bit glazed, soul a bit dazed, intensely content and calm. Eight degrees. Jacket on, a bit too warm. Jacket off, a bit chilly. That kind of day. A day of change.

I’m seated with a glass of red on the patio of Valentina in Kensington. It’s true I spend a lot of time alone but only rarely am I lonely. That is both very true and not wholly true. I’m happy but someone seated beside me would also be quite nice.

It was a long, cold winter. Things were done, decisions were made, time was passed in necessary ways. Now the sun is shining and the winter’s wrath arrested.

Now nearly one and nine, in the afternoon and degrees, respectively. Jacket’s off.

Gloves, too.

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À propos de Stina

If I could tell you about me in a neat and tidy definitive statement, I don't think I'd be writing this blog.
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