Ruby neighborhood walk on a blue sky day, a set on Flickr.
It's almost 0.5 miles to take a turn in our neighborhood at the end where our townhouse is located. This distance is just about right for Ruby to get her legs stretched, get a nice run in, and then peter out back at home to fall into her cushy bed. It seemed appropriate to capture our turn around the neighborhood with such a clear blue weekend as we have experienced thus far...
Somehow I started to read Proust. The blame goes to Alain de Botton , a writer whose witticisms deconstruct modern thinking and make intellectualism seem but a trifle and a whim. He wrote a book in 1997 called "How Proust Can Change Your Life" which distills the enigmatic French novelist into a self-help dispenser of pithy ideas. How clever I found Mr. de Botton to be when I dipped my toe into the vagaries of Proust; I picked up volume one of "In Search of Lost Time" and instantly fell into the deep end. What author dares to run sentences onward into the stratosphere that sometimes seemingly mellows behind the stars of a bright night, but never so much as an introspective person that wretches for the meaning of a simple thought, sometimes stumbling, but always emerging strongly as that same night in starry sky, almost an homage back to Van Gogh, whose rich paintings greatly represented the mood of a generation - and generations often afford a few mis-steps in l...
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