A trip to Bern with my friends, to visit the Paul Klee Museum
Paul Klee Museum
Trip to Airolo, in Ticino, and a ski trip that did not go too well for me. My day ended up with a fractured fibula, broken medial ligaments and torned crossed ligaments. The best part of the trip though was getting a piggyback ride from one of the rescue guys (who had to ski without using the poles) back to base.
Since I am always reading from the Journals of Sylvia Plath I thought I could post something here. This was written when she was eighteen (!), and her journal entries are outstanding even when she was that young.
I love people. Everybody. I love them, I think, as a stamp collector loves his collection. Every story, every incident, every bit of conversation is raw material for me. My love’s not impersonal yet not wholly subjective either. I would like to be everyone, a cripple, a dying man, a whore, and then come back to write about my thoughts, my emotions, as that person. But I am not omniscient. I have to live my life, and it is the only one I’ll ever have. And you cannot regard your own life with objective curiosity all the time…