*gasps in horror at my SATS diagnostic test score.*
There's a looong way to go.
I can feel the workload moodiness gently blanketing my soul and weighing it down, gradually intensifying, leaving me crying out in pain and desperation when it becomes too great to bear. I shrug off that coat of heaviness and trade it in for your jumper of levity.
It's that familiar scent. I have always had heightened experiences with the olfactory. The musty smell of a book, the scent of grass after the rain, sandalwood... (you)
I feel like a scholar with a tower of books next to me.
Booklist:
E. H. Gombrich: A Little History of the World
The New Penguin Book of Love Poetry
Keith Jenkins: Re-thinking History
John Tosh: The Pursuit of History
Shall blog about my gripe with Nex another time.
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