L’acqua ch’io prendo già mai non si corse

Now that I have mastered my rage against and general dislike of the Outpost, now that I have achieved focusing on what matters and that I have firmly resolved to filter out all that is annoying and ugly and stupid, unless I (think I) can fight it, what is there to write about? Deep down I dislike ranting and, even more obviously, I detest obsessing (unless it materialises in the form of love): therefore, if this is a ‘comedy of characters’ and morals and small-time countries and closed societies, I can hardly continue writing it if I am not fully engaged in the “process”. I can’t fake it, people.

Although barely reflected here, it has been a deeply changing season. I promise I will talk about its highlights when (almost) all is said and done (soon, I hope). I still enjoy having a place to express my internal life and rehearse my external monologue, but things are not going to be the same. In other words, I fear/guess/hope (but one can never be sure, right?), we will be getting very few posts of the sort linked to from here.

Times are a-changing.

For the time being, here is a picture of Jorge and Theta the Cuttlefish. Jorge is the one savaging the jacket potato.

Attacking the jacket potato


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