Ah, days. It's those things that aren't meant to hurt one that do so; an off hand remark on the part of my friend that i go home most weekends. This is true; but the implication, that i have nothing to do here, which he nevertheless knows, that he knows it attrists. The days have been but good. But there is a paradox: in order not to be pained, i must not hope concretely. But if I don't hope concretely i don't plan, for these are more or less synonymous. The betristfulest: that it is almost certain that we like each other, but that for want of an occasion nothing is to happen. But well, we are revolving, in this blog, in circles.