I find myself wandering aimlessly once more. Perhaps not by geography but inside. The newer of books closed with a silken ribbon wrapped around it and buried in a trunk in my room. The words written by me will not be looked at for some time. Looking out towards the future is a slight difficult. Aris as always so stoic and silent as I sit many ahns by the window looking out at the river. The days pass slowly as I put away a woman I liked very much. I have not yet learned how to balance she and me.. in a way that makes life bearable either side of the lives I have lived.
To start again. One more time.
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