This afternoon I went to Mozarts to read. I took Doctor Zhivago, Blue Like Jazz, and two Backpacker issues. Rotating between them all. I bought another white hot chocolate and sat by the big windows overlooking the lake. All the black ducks with their white beaks and the single swan. The glass pane was so cold and you could see the ducks shaking in the rain. I love Doctor Zhivago so much. In six months I'll be somewhere special with someone special. Soon enough I'll know where and with whom. It's been almost six months. It doesn't feel like that at all, does it? Everyone always thinks it's great to say you shouldn't live in the past. But if you're not even aware that the past isn't the present, how do you avoid living in it? Exactly. Six months from now doesn't seem real but six months ago seems like it's still happening. I was there for a few hours but when I left it felt like I was rushing out. I could have sat there with my books and magazines and white hot chocolate for days but the waiters dimmed the lights and lit candles for the couples on their dates. The funny thing was that most of us were just there by ourselves reading and it really wasn't necessary.

"Only real greatness can be so unconcerned with timing and opportunity."
Doctor Zhivago