Cold has returned again. 'Tis the season, I suppose. Surviving.
Arguably a mistake to return to the homeland after the first extended absence to a city swamped with highly materialistic tourists. The spell over their minds, that makes them endlessly desire objects in a rather craven mindset, and then, more importantly, pay for them, seems almost to serve as a leveraging of the biomass for the concentration of capital. There was a different sunlight in Philadelphia some years ago, I think.
The impulse is to get back to Bosnia or Serbia, though aside from being two very spiritually powerful places, I'm not sure why those two specifically come to mind, and I'm certain that the folks in either one would look askance at the list.
Once your life transcends appearances, things get a bit complex. There is no one to give you an indication of what one should do or think, no one to read you in to the plot, the plot having been revealed to be a thin conceit of the scribbler of the otherwise worthwhile fiction. One simply goes on.
Although I continue to arc back towards the world in my work, and hence have been reading a lot of law and legal history lately, any time not spent reading or thinking about philosophy seems wasted. So I waste time in order to attempt to be of service to an increasingly alien scholarly discourse.
Good workout at the gym. As there was no weekday Mass to sprint off to at the end, did a double session. Corpore sano. "...when the water runs muddy, I wash my cloak."
Onward.