and then our exile

if this were this morning, i have a distinct feeling i would be writing now (if i wrote at all) about blood. dripping into sand as a decapitated and mutilated body is torn at by the wild beasts inhabiting the world of quadratic inequalities and so on. vultures would circle slowly above, their slow gyrations proclaiming the stench of inevitable consequence to all the world.
to put it simply, i'd hardly begun the unit, and so was not ready for any exam.

but, it is not this morning. and so i would like to write about the way the sky is grey and beautiful and how the leaves carpet grass or swirl down from trees in moments of epiphany, while i, who have finally realized work is to be done if i am to finish these courses and go to yemen [iA!], work away and actually begin to make some small progress. briefly: mr.wilson was maneuvered into letting me do the exam tomorrow morning. i have won myself a breathing-space of a few hours. all i can hope is that this time is used with more efficacy than that other 'breathing space' of last night, which i ended up spending in a three-hour-long conversation about everything from ..temperature readings?.. to methodologies of conversion to hawksley-sahib to the meaning of Essence and the extent to which one can understand anyone else, really... a good conversation, but one that made me feel very old and tired.

i'd go on about this, but stuff must be done. and then i have letters to write. i read yesterday that "today was the last warm day", and grew mightily indignant at the limitation. but: today: grey, windy and cold. ^_^