and then our exile

The secular are just like everyone else, only less so. (AHM)

cups of tea tonight, on a night when the gathering snow has been falling for hours. a day and a half of classes left, and after finals a few glorious days of freedom before it begins again.

i would give a lot to remember my dreams from last night. i wish i could write again - it has been a month and a half. an aggregate of nostalgia, this is what it becomes, here in the winter of this discontent. and among the hollows, the rushes, the starleaf patterns in cracked concrete. a metaphysical conceit, metastatized.