well, its been a long time

I've read some books since coming home and I'm all moved into my flat. Furniture count: 1 couch. Lots of empty carpet space to roll around on. I tried to work my way through A  False Prince on a recommendation, but couldn't stomach it for whatever reason. Did finish The Name of the Wind despite the very Perfect protagonist (so all knowing! Wise! Gifted!) because it was a bit entertaining and I'm very motivated by library due dates. I also read a free book I found in a box in the street in South London called Getting Hurt, which was actually sort-of delightful in a trashy adult romance way, and a bit poetic, and exactly the type of thing I wanted to be reading while I was lounging poolside in my silk robe (thrift shop) with watered down iced wine and a molasses creep of poverty induced anxiety. Now I'm reading Do Not Say We Have Nothing, and that is the best novel I've picked up since Lolita.



I adopted a dog, too. He's the light in my life, Teddy Roosevelt style.

Anyway that's it.