THIS IS NICE WORDS, NOSTALGIA.

Hello campers. Today is a sunny day. I am going to get coffee and chocolate and toast for breakfast, and go to class and work. I am happy to be alive. Here are the first three paragraphs of the book I am reading for African lit. The Famished Road, by Ben Okri. It's awesome.

In the beginning there was a river. The river became a road and the road branched out to the whole world. And because the road was once a river it was always hungry.

In that land of beginnings spirits mingled with the unborn. We could assume numerous forms. Many of us were birds. We knew no boundaries. There was much feasting, playing, and sorrowing. We feasted much because of the beautiful terrors of eternity. We played much because we were free. And we sorrowed much because there were always those amongst us who had just returned from the world of the Living. They returned inconsolable for all the love they had left behind, all the suffering they hadn't redeemed, all that they hadn't understood, and for all that they had barely begun to learn before they were drawn back to the land of origins.

There was not one amongst us who looked forward to being born. We disliked the rigors of existence, the unfulfilled longings, the enshrined injustices of the world, the labyrinths of love, the ignorance of parents, the fact of dying, and the amazing indifference of the LIving in the midst of the simple beauties of the universe. We feared the heartlessness of human beings, all of whom are born blind, few of whom ever learn to see.

Now, for some lighter, fare, try this. I am super nostalgic for the seventies lately. It has something to do with my epic plans for after graduation, but more on that later.



God, I sweat those glasses.