Today I submitted an essay that took me a million years to finish. Writing five thousand words is one thing, but knowing what to write about is a whole different story. It's tough, especially when it comes to a field that you have absolutely no knowledge of. Obviously, I had to catch up, because preparation is key. That meant unlimited research and endless readings, but at the end of it all I somehow finished it. And now it's gone.
In the evening I met Bosccono for dinner. We met at St. Pancras and went to Le Pain Quotidien. I was told that their bread was really good. As you get in, they tell you to wait to be seated, even though it's nothing like a legit restaurant, much less with a window front in a crowded train station. We ordered coffee, a basket of bread and some soup. It was indeed really good bread, and their house marmelade was really fruity.
When I got back home I sat down and tapped my übersatisfied belly. I drank another cup of coffee as if to calm down the party that was going on in there. And while sipping on it I suddenly registered a weird emptyness. Now that the essay is gone I feel like a free man again, even a little bit disorientated. What am I going to lament about now? It's a new day in a new term, sigh. Maybe I should go out and look for a job.
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