i have been re-reading the works of w. somerset maugham. i had forgotten how
much i love maugham's style and persona. reading these books again that i
discovered when i was a teenager has triggered a powerful memory recovery
process. for the last weeks i have been attempting an archeological
reconstruction of my ego, my SELF, an attempt to remember who i am and what
i want by recalling who i once was and what once i wanted. maugham is to me
what the madeleine cookie was to proust.
as if by magic, in the middle of this funky, ghostly, exhilarating journey
into myself, a series of very improbable events have started to happen in my
life. the most improbable and wonderful of them all took place last sunday.
it is still too early to tell you about it.
as soon as the situation is outside the jinx zone, i will be writing about
this miraculous turn of events in my life.
until then, i remain
frivolous little old me.
