Heaven only knows why we love it so."
from the novel, 'The Hours' by Michael Cunningham.
yesterday was a holiday and i spent all of it reading, writing and dreaming. after so many months, a day happened when nothing mattered but loads of solitude and the book in my hand. all through the day i did nothing but read, wrote an unfinished piece of prose, one story that is waiting to be formed and one poem that refuses to come to an end; and god i was so contented after all of it, and heaven only knows why i love it so.