enchanting times Middle of the night, talking in the Rosebery cantine about being-in-the-world, Dasein, interspersed with jokes and explanations about Schneider's sex life. Schneider furnishes an example in Merleau-Ponty's Phenomenology of Perception. You cannot cut him up, his body is a whole, his window to the world. Fluorescent light, and the sound of crickets from the court yard. Then riding the bike home, it is always easy to get home from Rosebery... just down Mount Pleasant, the post office on the left side. The streets so empty, ha, London is just mine.
Yesterday the craze of two exams, seven-and-a-half hours passed like a flash, left with an achy arm now, fingers twisted into a claw. Cold cold beer in Houghton Street so fresh, and they gave me a stamp on my hand, a Beaver's paw. A grilled sandwich in Don Quixote's, ciabatta and grilled aubergine. Up and down Kingsway, people outside the pubs and restaurants, the warm air of this summer night. Leafy trees, too, but a shade of gray. This is London. Finally learning from and about a friend afterwards, so many things falling into place. Many times almost choked by tears. Almost. "Don't cry" she said. Three years three years it took. It will all take so many more. It is just ongoing, and today it feels like everything will last forever. In the sunshine and cool wind of this morning, the room filled with clarity, beauty, ongoingness.  ¶ 10:50 AM