Heat confuses me. I want to change my sleep in relation but don’t have the social independence it takes. Then I’d have to wake, eat dinner, work, run in the park at 5am and then I guess have a glass of wine with breakfast in time to wind down in time for heat sleeping. But there’s no breakfast in Italy.
Yesterday a writer I know who is trying to make himself figure out his deal with not sending things out described it as possibly a form of hoarding.
Meanwhile, not writing. Reading a truly funny 19th century book with a talking dog.