Now Playing: Bach, Violin Concerto in E Major, BWV 1041.
One of the pleasures of being in grad school: sitting at the dining room table, watching a thunderstorm approach, while writing the conclusion to my paper on Heaney's Beowulf. Beside me Scott is working on a paper on the Lutheran appreciation for early modern anatomical texts, and across the table Mary is writing an essay for her Italian take-home exam about comedy and fencing. Tea and biscuits. Soon rain will be rattling against the glass.
GAH. Awesomeness flocks to Evelyn like... I was going to say 'vultures to roadkill,' but that analogy fails to be flattering on both sides. Let's go with butterflies. Butterflies to a sweet-smelling flower. *aspires to demure innocence*
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