(observational notes of exquisitely ordinary moments)
i bought a new book today called All the lives we ever lived: Seeking solace in Virginia Woolf. I was intrigued by the title. it wasn’t the book i’d gone to buy. the title on the spine leapt out at me from a bookshelf one row up from the floor in a tiny little local bookstore that I love to frequent. The floor to ceiling shelves are stacked with papery delights, some overflowing into baskets on the carpeted floor. this treasure trove of words, from real and imaginary lands, never fails to enchant me.
something to consider
What does, and doesn’t, make it into our “new normal”? into MY new normal? what does that even mean to me in the context of my own life and the experiences of the past 16 months?
If everything around you seems dark, look again. You may be the light.