‘There is no royal road to pomegrenades.’
I find that this paraphrasing of Euclidius is a fitting way to begin this entry. Simply because there isn’t. I theorize that it is impossible to eat more than 24 pomegranates in a day, and likely not more than 18 given you’d want to sleep as well.
That gives a hint of what I’ve been doing — just ate one.
And an onlooker might say I’ve been going insane, bit by bit. Starting from ironing at 4 AM (before sleep), continuing with being extremely happy over the fact that I’m living with a Romanian (amongst others) next year, and placing the Broad in the middle of the Grampians when I walked down to Suffolk.
It is amazing though. Everything is.
I thought of rewatching a masterpiece. Haven’t completely decided on it yet though.
