trying to get back in the habit

I just started reading Swann's Way, the first installment of In Search of Lost Time by Proust. I feel somehow socially mandated to read this- as if I could not call myself a well educated person without those words having wrapped themselves around my tongue at some point in time.

Bear with me as I try to ease back into this blogging thing, this internet black hole that I can only assume will return to me with the structural edits embossed upon it like a tangible marker of time.

It had immediately rendered the vicissitudes of life unimportant to me, its disasters innocuous, its brevity illusory, acting in the same way that love acts, by filling me with a precious essence: or rather this essence was not merely inside me, it was me.