Novels the begin with the letter P.

Oh Walter, you are so enchanting with your lack of charm.

Today I've finished reading W. Somerset Maugham's "The Painted Veil," upon which was based the 2006 film of the same name, which features a devastatingly excellent performance by one Mr. Edward Norton. The book proved very worthwhile, though I proudly admit I had difficulty relating to our scoundrel of a heroine, Kitty. After seeing the movie, I simply could not comprehend her inability to love the shy, sweet, intelligent, and intentional man that is Walter Fane. If not Mr. Darcy, I'd gladly find myself such a man. Anyhow, I was distracted from the story by Maugham's frequent use of the adjective "singular," meaning "extraordinary, remarkable, exceptional, or unusual."

If I may be allowed to so dramatize my own experiences, I would say that the feeling I have comfortably slipped into these past few weeks is just that: a quiet singularity. I find myself at some sort of anxious peace, like a young girl dressed and ready for her first date with fifteen minutes to spare. I am watching the sun rise, with a very-real sense that the day ahead is not to be wasted, but the beauty of the moment demands a pause.

My father is gallantly stationed at his new home and getting along rather nicely.

I depart two weeks from tomorrow, and have a relatively short list of to-do's between now and then, a good portion of which involves spending time with people I love to love. I know that the semester before me shall be one of growth and dependence and discovery, all of which I find myself in desperate need, but with that acceptance comes the vagueness I imagine to belong to our same young girl, still sitting patiently enough waiting for her date to arrive, thinking of her future husband, their life together, and the intimate-but-distant feeling of who she will be in those future days. It is vague but it is strong, like a wave.

Speaking of waves, if you've never read Jack's Perelandra, do that very soon. Clive my boy gives quite the image of how femininity and masculinity were designed to work together. Incredible.

That's enough for now, I suppose. I promise to blog more frequently and with more pictures when I have arrived at Reunion Island. For now, you are excused from the table and are not expected to make a meal of my words, but may go on about your lovely little life and ruin your appetite with ice cream sandwiches.