I did not want to go out today and I barely did. I know what I said about walking nowhere, but after a search today on the net there was no nowhere nearby that inspired me enough, no little village I wanted to see, or maybe I was just too tired. I feel like an hermit anyway these days. I say hermit, but it is maybe more a monk, as I have decided stay in and read. I went out once today, but it was to visit the local library and get some more books, among them a book about Stonehenge, just because. I love just stumbling on some random work and just get it. However small is the local library, I love re-exploring it. I am a bookworm, sometimes a caricature of one: the glasses, the slight frowning when I read, the trepidation when I am looking at bookshelves. I feel very much like one today.
Circumstances seem to favour my natural state of mind: last Thursday was the World Book Day and there are still loads of programs that is celebrating it on the BBC. I am not reading anything profound at the moment, not great classic or obscure masterpieces, but I read. And I enjoy it tremendously.