I finished, “Winter Ghosts” in one sitting. I liked it and got a bit of a turn because it took place in the Pyrenees between the border of France and Spain, the Occitan, and touch upon the Albeginsians and the Cathars. It was a good ghost story, the kind I like, but it wasn’t really scary, but a good tale. The book was prefaced with a poem written in what was described, “the old Occitan,” and for the life of me I couldn’t figure out the dialect because it seemed like Latin, then Spanish, and then French just to get me confused. So, after finishing the book, I checked on the old Occitan to learn that region had been part of the Roman Empire, there in the Pyrenees where Latin was spoken, then vulgar Latin as time wore on, then Catalonian, and being so close to France, how could that not influence it. In other words, part of the Iberian peninsula. You might like this little gem, the tale of an upper British middle class young man traumatized by loss, healed by…well, won’t tell you the end.
Felt utterly compelled to do a reading for you this afternoon asking how serious you were about leave work for good. Cards said it isn’t your work you want to leave for good, it’s something else, and you’re sublimating. Not going to help.
Cards also asked the huge cosmic question, when are you going to stop resisting that beautiful dark brown bowl of chocolate ice cream and stop starving yourself on little blue M&M’s? In an emotional sense, of course.