Oy. It's April already. The air smells thoroughly of Spring, the birds sing loud and joyful, the crocuses defy the remaining chill in the air to open their hearts to the still-strained sunlight. I saw a baby beaver today. I touched some trees. I heard the water lap, and I breathed life. There is something to be said for a cold and white winter: the change into Spring is better appreciated.
School, of course, goes. I'm registered for classes for the fall, although they might (i.e., hopefully) change. I need to figure out next year's living situation, which might prove tricky and will demand careful thought. This summer is still an unknown which daunts me. I need to listen to music more.
I watched The Count of Monte Cristo this evening; I liked it very much. They made it a happy ending, with a good moral, which is fine, just not what I expected. I need to re-read the book, because I remember so little.
I feel a little like a shadow, insubstantial and vague. Perhaps the piercing light of spring is driving through the mist and facades to reveal the truth lack of solidity. Perhaps something else. I don't know, and at the moment, I don't mind. Funny how a good dose of breathing clears everything up just enough to continue.
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