It Might Just Be

I appeared mired this Sunday in the traction of Edward Crankshaw and his penchant for the phrase, putting too fine a point on it. Escaping the Birthday week, there is a certain humor of self-discovery. You gradually understand what you are comprised of and what you won't accept. Whether this bread and cheese or cinema or the ongoing cultural erosion of imagination and comprehension, you learn to pick your spots.

I am nearly finished with The Sheltering Sky and it is a commendable examination of 1st World, middle class neuroses in an Orientalist context. That said, it could've been situated in Burma or El Salvador with the same effect.