Twelve hours solid on the essay and it's still not done.
I'm tired of it. I'm tired of myself.
Why do I make things so difficult?
Glanced up this morning and saw a sliver of sun catching the edge of the 'balcony'.
Now there's a sign of hope.
Around June it sticks around until midday, filling the whole space, before slipping away behind the house.
I'm not meant to go out there - the landlord forbade it - but on golden days I'll wiggle out of the window to stretch out and bask.
I'll even spend the night out there when it gets really hot. Watching for satellites and gazing at stars is a really nice way to fall asleep.
The space, I found, is just about wide enough for my camping bed and a wine glass.
This might be the second year running that counts as a holiday.
Today's Photo: Great Lies Of Our Time (Serves Two)
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