reading classic lit for fun: immersed in the book. enjoying myself. transported to another world where i am in fact a greek nymph

reading classic lit for an assignment: i read a page. a minute has passed. i read another page. an hour has passed. i spend the day trying to read one chapter and only once i’ve finished do i realize i understood none of it. 0/10

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06.08.2020 A week off in my apartment looks like; breakfast in bed, finally re-potting my plants, taking a long time to prepare and cook dinner while listening to a whole album, using the herbs from my windowsill for seasoning, companionable naps with my cat, treating myself gently and reveling in my own company.

It is hot. We have been sweating it out in the flat and on our tiny steel balcony which is now too scalding to stand on without slippers. The back room is a big bowl of sunshine but the kitchen is nice and cool and dark, kind of like a hillside villa (but actually a postwar housing estate). I just started reading Katie Mack’s The End of Everything—it came out a couple of days ago; if you know me, you know that I am already healthily obsessed. Tomorrow is forecast to be even hotter though, so I don’t know if my melty brain will be able to handle astrophysics 🔭🪑🪐