Day 0426

After morning walk in the springtime sun I have unstopped my ears and untethered myself from the mast of worldly abstinence and booked a month in Paris. The thrice seductive siren song of pretty girls, the impulse of the moment and fiscal impropriety too great to resist. Reading Balzac and now Turgenev has weakened my resolve and I hunger for a spot of degraded sensualism.

Started Turgenev's Torrents of Spring, which started at such a glorious depth of oh-so Russian ennui and bleakest gloom but now soars to the heights of a French romance. Delicious combination!