Scattered

I cannot think in the summer, it's official. Every day I say I want to write something, every day I force myself to think of something good to write about, an idea, a thought but then it scatters away. I think it is perhaps the heat that makes it dissolve into nothingness. Or my tiredness. I read interesting things (Alias Grace, The Village of widows-I will write something about them one day), I meet nice people, I see plays (tomorrow Medea) but nothing stays. Blogging is not a summer sport, for sure. Winter is excellent for staying in, on a comfy sofa and writing away. In the summer my mind works only partially and my willingness to write evaporates just like the sweat on my skin. The most intellectual thing I can write about is my tan, it seems... Thank you to Youkali who keeps the blog alive on August then...