Sensuous

20 June — Sunday

An odd weekend.

Odd for now, typical of what once was. A weekend of doing puzzles in the Times, of sitting around reading, of having no human contact whatsoever. Not long ago all my weekends are like this, and now it almost seems as though I have come full circle. Earlier today I wondered if this would be a new pattern, or more accurately the resumption of an old pattern; if once again all my weekends would be spent alone.

I want it to be tomorrow and am unwilling to speculate precisely why this is so.