|"Lady Reading By A Window": Thomas Benjamin Kennington|
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The beach, the mountain, the forest, by a river, down the lake, anywhere with pure quiet solitariness would be my preference. Whisk me!
Though March may be thick of summer, my surrounding is sodden in bleak mottled grey. I am heart sick. Ugh, melodramatic, but how else can I say it? I've a mind to pack myself a slice of (wheat bread) chicken sandwich, a bottle of spirtzy water, and a good sized pink cottony blanket to spread on the grass; perhaps then my entire composition would lift. Chicken sandwich will do it!
Of course there would be a book and a pen to bring. But the sun, the sun is stubbornly merciless! All would have to wait till later.
Scorching and sticky and numbskulled! Days like this, one simply has to ride it.
California Chicken Sandwich