15 June 2020
Have you ever dropped a thermometer and watched its ball of mercury break into a scatter of glistening droplets? That's my mind right now. The table next to my bed is anchoring a tottering tower of books I have begun and then abandoned, not out of displeasure but because... well, I actually couldn't say exactly why I have put down the Andrew O'Hagan and picked up the Fernanda Melchor and then switched over to Samuel Butler. I am merely following my mind's whims and my mind is a whim factory, goaded into hyper-productivity by the pandemic.