Joys Divine

There is much to be said for serenity. last night was unwrapped sans any movement towards television nor computer. It was a quiet evening rife with thought, reading and music. I enjoyed A.S. Byatt's introduction to Burton's Arabian Nights, though found it unduly playful and overly cozy to her friends, who likely shouldn't be mentioned in discussions involving the timeless. I read a healthy (wink) section of the Anatomy though I have yet to post my findings on samizdat. I then turned to Borges, as my music shifted from Ellington's Far East Suite to Neil Young's equially seminal Harvest. Borges was fond of both Burtons. I am fond of Borges as well as the Burtons. I should Borges more often.