some kiddie called and wanted to come over to see the room. "i'm living in your room next year." (a slight pang, i think, at the idea of leaving and this becoming someone else's room.) i didn't mind her coming to visit, although i'd have to straighten up the room, but that's not a problem - i ought to clean up anyway it's too cluttered in here. and do the laundry.

i walked out to the corner for lunch after this morning's lecture, which was on poe and hawthorne (young goodman brown - what a story!), although i'd gone to class thinking it was on browning and tennyson, and i hadn't wanted to miss tucker on his favourite poets. went into heartwood books on a whim, trusting in serendipity that i'll run into some children's riddle collection or folk tale book that would put it altogether, but inspiration wasn't coming that way and i left with a copy of jeanette winterson's the passion, which i am not reading, not today, not for a long time, i should think. it's a book that disturbs me profoundly, because it probes me at a personal level of - pain and passion.

and i got a mail from eunice! quite taken aback when i saw her mail because we've not seen or heard from each other for - 5 years! and she would have been one of those lost people to me if she hadn't come upon my journal tonight! dear eunice!