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Category: Diary
Tags: Text Sunday

August-30

August 30, Sunday night

I do not know when it has begun, but I feel markedly less sure of myself now than, say, three or even one month ago. I do not know why; all I know is my firm resolve has fled away or further inside me, I cannot tell.

Perhaps I devote myself far too widely and have lost focus of my goal; I have marks in a geometry book, The Idiot, and have stopped myself two pages into Lolita, not to mention the text on Asian history and my study of katakana oh my fastidious interest!

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