Dust

The fecindity of yesterday has been lost. I had hoped to finish the Thomas Kelly today, but as it stands, I may not even read a line. I had begun one of the Rosemary Sutcliff novels yesterday, The Lantern Bearers, and was enjoying it. So much so, that the wife and I sped over to Half Price where I looked for copies or others of that vein from Ms. Sutcliff. Alas there were none, though I did find Brighton Rock and a few other books of interest. I think I am going to read fiction this week. I will likely finish the Sutcliff and the Kelly and then I am entertaining the idea of rereading Rings of Saturn by Sebald. The lengthy essay by Moody in The Believer has conjured such. It has been nearly nine years since I read it and I remain curious how the passage will affect a second reading.