Anna Karenina

This book has been my constant companion since two days after Christmas. I unceremoniously finished it (and it unceremoniously ended with Anna's foil at peace, though of course Anna did not achieve this for herself) last night, lying on my couch, while watching television. Now I ask myself the question I always ask when a long-standing relationship reaches an end. What will I do now?

I read other things during this time period. Sometimes I went for weeks without cracking it open...school, my own sadness, my schedule, whatever... might have prevented me, but when I returned to Tolstoy's Russian landscape, the characters were still toiling right where I left them...Anna becoming increasingly embittered, Levin still wrestling with matters of faith, poor Kitty Sherbatsky, pregant for much longer than she should have been, thanks to the gaps in my reading.

When I was awakened this morning by the cool breeze and lemon yellow sun streaming through my window, I thought of Anna Karenina, and then remembered there are no more pages to read.

Last night I dreamt that Victoria gave me a lovely batik tote bag; it was black with brown designs, and she gave me a set of paint brushes. We had plans to connect in Paris for my birthday, since we would both already be there on other business...