July. The dog days of summer.
From 10am to 7pm, it's too miserably hot to do anything. And yet I find myself biking to the used book store to collect hundred year old german books that i can't read. yet.

I have been reclusive. Yes, I have.
My hermit tendencies spring up a lot, even in the summer. A feeling that sometimes I like being surrounded by stangers in public, or if it's really bad, I just don't want to leave my house at all. Sometimes I imagine that I'd like to move to some ignored european country like norway to get away for a couple months. I don't know why. I love my friends and family, and I like my quant little town.
I just get reclusive for reasons I can't understand.

No, I haven't been sketching, But I've been painting. A gray seascape with cliffs. Not stormy gray, just spring-rain gray.

I have a slight writer's block, and as a result, I've been doing a lot of reading.
Let it break. let it break. Let it break.
Like glass.
I love those fabulous moments when a writing block is over and everything becomes clear. Illuminated by inspiration i suppose.

Ta all. Hope I can work again soon. Hope I can some out from my hole soon.

Also, I has a tumblr.
[link]