Sunday morning, coming down
Nov. 15th, 2009 11:39 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
desperanceIt is eleven-thirty: and no, I may not go to the pub yet. I am not expected there for an hour and a half. I shall go on working. One more hour, I can at least manage that, despite the ouchie. Alcohol shall be anaesthetic later. Also dim sum, also tea. Yum cha!
I keep stumbling over infelicities in this text and thinking "How did [anyone at all] ever let that by - oh, wait. Nobody's read this yet, except me. How did I ever...?"
On the other hand, there are occasional felicities to leaven the lump of it. Today's favourite thus far: "There were no secrets left, only things that had not yet been said." I like that. Betrayal: it's all about the bitter.
I keep stumbling over infelicities in this text and thinking "How did [anyone at all] ever let that by - oh, wait. Nobody's read this yet, except me. How did I ever...?"
On the other hand, there are occasional felicities to leaven the lump of it. Today's favourite thus far: "There were no secrets left, only things that had not yet been said." I like that. Betrayal: it's all about the bitter.