Chapter, Fashionably Light
Aug 05 2013
The plan was to wander and reacquaint, the only item on the agenda being a visit to Trident Booksellers, because I simply must visit Trident Booksellers.
I packed Thomas the DSLR and my new Muji umbrella because of the forecast. I wanted to bring a book to read, but which one?
I knew I would be too excited, too high on Beantown-invoked adrenaline to stay put long enough to write a postcard let alone read a novel.
For me, poetry is like a party I don’t really feel like going to, but when I get there it’s pretty awesome. I rarely go, hey, I reeeally feel like a poem right now, preferring to delve into stories, fiction or non.
But I finally found a place for reading poetry, a new literary companion to my urban adventures. Sylvia Plath’s early poems were the perfect pocket size for my darting attention, perfect for reading on a park bench and pondering whilst staring onto the Common. It didn’t matter that every five seconds I was distracted by my surroundings, because five seconds was long enough to drink in another string of words, and my distraction was coloured by reflections of what I’d just read.
Well, then you’ll remember the early episode in which our bookish heroine Rory packs a book of short stories, a biography, some poems, and a novel for her commute to school. Her baffled mother asks why she doesn’t give her shoulders a break and read one book at a time. Rory explains that she might feel like reading a certain genre over another depending on circumstances.
I finally understand.
Maureen Johnson’s Girl at Sea sits on the coffee table for longer chunks of free time during the day.
Gisèle Scanlon’s The Goddess Guide rests by my bed for flipping through in the few minutes before I fall asleep.
And now, Sylvia Plath’s Poems lives in my backpack.
P.S. Happy birthday to my 할머니! :)
Storytime. It was ‘the hottest day of the summer’ in London. I marched out of the house in a slip (this one) and Converse boots (these ones) and for most of the day I was fine UNTIL I entered the recently renovated Old Vic for an evening show. Two words: Air. Conditioning. Hopelessly jacketless, I […]
Simple Fix: Bring a Jacket
Aug 02 2013
Stuff…stuff… Yet. More. Stuff. At university, I grew accustomed to minimal living. I packed my bags carefully, and in this de-cluttered bliss, anything I didn’t need glared at me so obviously so I just got rid of it. Ahhh…. Returning home means returning to all that excess stuff that didn’t make it into The Wayfinder. […]
stuff, Stuff, STUFF! Clutter is Bringing Me Down, Man.
Aug 06 2013