bleahhh;
the last hurrah
& Thursday, June 22
i'm reading peterpan. the real classic, because it says on the back complete and unabridged. real classics selling for four dollars seventythree cents. niceee.
bet i can finish peterpan and sherlock holmes. not too sure about charles dicken's hard times. maybe i'll just finish it for the sake of finishing it. pretend i understand it, and go back to get more. for all you know, this can't-understand-but-still-trying thing will pay off, and i'll enjoy Crime and Punishment. in thirty years
The man who wrote PeterPan. something Barrie. well, he puzzles me. and i bet he would be puzzled about how his creation turned out. peter is a little stupid. tinkerbell is evil. wendy is weirdd. is my memory failing me? because the real peterpan doesnt sound like a fairytale. really quite unlike the impression i had. stamped in my brain thanks to cartoons, and huge books with huge prints and huge pictures. i cant categorise peterpan. a tinge of mockery hidden in innocence is always facinating, no? fancy someone writing about Neverland while staring at Hyde Park London. makes me want to return to the statue i heard they erected in the memory of him.
maybe it's all the tourism readings, my travelling legs are itchy. thanks to my sister, for succeeding in what i'm dying in now - studying. i've got the chance to return claiming to want to see her. and claiming the truth, duhhh. i've got all i need, except cash (:
goodbye
2:40 PM