Book review!

Doctor Zhivago is so fucking good that I think I might need to learn Russian.

Noises, rounded, as if polished on a lathe, rolled echoing lightly through crisp, frosty, nut-clean space.

And that’s in translation!


Lara was not religious. She did not believe in ritual. But sometimes, to enable her to bear her life, she needed the accompaniment of an inward music and she could not always compose it for herself.

This got me thinking a lot about the people who help us compose the music of our lives. Family, friends, lovers. If you had the ability to always write your own music, would you be lonely or glowing with inner peace?

Speaking of which, I’m in the market for a new therapist. I have a few leads, but if anyone has any recommendations they’d be gratefully received.


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