Absent for a while, I was studying.
A bottle of Glenfiddich, almost finished. Back to that noble pursuit of perfect drunken languor.
Finished revising, spent the day listening to Station to Station.
I’m thinking about the bridge.
The Campari has deteriorated.
It has been a sleepless weekend.
And thanked yourself for pouring yourself a drink.
A bottle of red, thanks Hemingway.