Today it rained, and after a foray for bubble bath supplies, and, as luck would have it, a cut-price orchid, I listened to the particular tap of the cool rain on the skylight of my room under the eaves, turned on Chet Baker, and napped on and off all afternoon, intermittently dipping into 'Dreaming in French: The Paris Years of Jacqueline Kennedy, Susan Sontag and Angela Davis,' before ambitiously branching out to a cozy leather chair in the library with a pot of tea, a cucumber sandwich and 'Cold Comfort Farm.' My favorite passage from the former: 'Living on Paris time, six hours later than their friends back on campus and their families at home, they would experience, over a period of many months, an isolation from much that was familiar, and a particular form of solitude. With that solitude came the greatest luxuries: the time to read, the opportunity to wander, and the chance to think new thoughts.'
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