11 dec 2022 * 21:43 / pink winter
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I smelled a lot of different scented products today. Some I almost touched
my nose with. I wore a scarf I'd discarded for years in favor of
one I felt was too frilly this season. In winter I feel too big for every
space, scared I'll knock over everything with layers of sweaters and coat.
There was an interview with Donna Tartt on youtube which I almost watched in
its entirety. She talked about writing programs and about writing 'The
Secret History'. My friend talked not too long ago about how she was having
a hard time to finish that book, I've never read it myself. The interview
was interesting, I have an admiration for people who stick with their
stories. She took eight years to write 'The Secret History', she likes to
read the same books over and over again. I wish I could write everyday on
one story. I don't think my mind works that way, or maybe I really don't
have the time. Maybe in eight years I'll have written a story, perhaps not
as well-known and long as Donna Tartt's novels, but an important one to me
and my loved ones all the same.
There were a couple of times this weekend where it felt like I was saying
goodbye, but they all turned out to be false alarms. A very nice feeling, in my
opinion. I reconnected with someone I thought I'd lost touch with too.
On a frosty busride all the red leaves turned pink, changing the landscape
rosy and dilluted.
interview:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7oo-wNuP9tU&t=735s
