As I write this, the sun is hovering just above the horizon in a burst of orange and hot yellow. Birds are madly chattering at each other in a way that makes me wonder if they just chirp to hear themselves chirp, or if they understand each other, from one sort of bird to another. I can also hear the voices of people in the orchard behind my house picking cherries. Not what they're saying, just the sound of their presence out there.
It's been a busy day. A mighty quick day. I can't believe we're at its end already. Front-line public library duty is exhausting work - be kind to your librarian the next time you visit! I'm back again tomorrow, and thinking that I may not survive it. There is an algorithm I haven't worked out that translates time based on an introvert doing extroverted activities. It must be something like: four hours of friendly outgoingness for an introvert = 7.5 hours of regular work to an extrovert.
I did manage to write just shy of 300 words yesterday. That's not a vast amount by any means, but I made an exciting discovery. Gamel started not in England as I'd imagined, but in Germany, and this became clear because the brown corduroy and tweed-wearing antique shop owner is named Mr. Hummels, and not Mr. Hobbs.
Obviously.
More written today.
And so one chapter, at last, is written.
Day three: complete.
solitude + inspiration
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