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[typed and edited 10-09-2003]

Finished re-reading Tania Blixen's 'Out of Africa', wondering whether the version I had before might have been an abridged one. 'Shadows on the Grass' certainly hadn't been included, but even from the rest I remember some passages quite clearly, others not at all.

I'm maybe not quite as struck with it as I was when I read it the first time six or more years ago, but I still find the narrative style rather appealing. Vivid, a curious mixture of poetry, human understanding and humour - the ability not to take herself too serious, which takes the sting out of some passages that could be considered less than politically correct from today's perspective. Very straightforward, often tinged with the wildness, even unconscious brutality of someone living in close touch with nature, not separated or protected from her.

Emotional, too, in a very understated way, one can feel her intense love for the place and the farm, more so because the style itself is very clear and unostentatious, entirely lacking in drama. But her grief at having to give up the farm is just so blatant; I was on the verge of tears during most of the later chapters.

Is it the full moon that makes me so... irritable, discontent, or PMS?

The loneliness is oppressive, random sounds of other people going about their lives, disconnected from them.

I need someone to talk to, a random chat would do, but what I really want is a meaningful, inspiring conversation, an exchange of ideas.

Words dry up for lack of use, I guess thoughts will too, sooner or later.

It's a decline in every respect and I'm not strong enough to oppose it.

It's a frightening realisation that it's the internet that I mostly use as a voyeur (er, lurker) and the random talk at work that keeps the despair at bay that regularly catches up with me here.

Too tired to concentrate on anything, too restless to sleep.

In the evening all my determination and resolutions drain away, too weak to last with nothing to fuel them, leaving me hopeless and stranded.

Waiting for the moon to rise I saw two falling stars, the first one small and far away, the second a few minutes later, very bright, almost a confirmation.

Make a wish?


A hint of what I might see if I only dared look outside, away from the surrounding walls.


solitary summer

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