Tonight I feel grateful for having had such a productive morning - cleaning the floors, writing report cards, doing laundry and dishes - that I could spend a few hours in the afternoon reading in the park. There is something magical about getting lost in a book about young lovers in the snow in the mountains of Japan while sitting by a lake in a busy city on a hot spring day. I am reading Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami. I find his writing style seductive and meditative. And by writing this up now I am reliving that memory and hopefully imbedding the warm, hypnotic pleasure of my afternoon into my brain.
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