It's time to reassess the summer

Danny told us about an unusual activity, which consumed his two weeks. After a bout of stage fright, he came up with a better way to prepare for the speeches next term. Our coursemate thought that our canine friends were attentive listeners. It took him almost a week before he got Missy's attention (or so he thought). She was one of his family's two pet huskies, and she hardly showed any reaction until his younger brother was stroking George's head. He was the other husky, which made Missy jealous (of his affection towards her fellow breed). He did his best, but without success. Jim surmised that Danny would get a better response from a pug.

Jim wandered about the day when Britain would have its own Google. He wasn't alluding to the website, but rather a company with a patient leader and investors who were willing to go on long ride. He was about to talk about the early history of Facebook, but Sven cut in. Werner Herzog would turn 74 on September 5. Everyone shuddered at the thought of the previous winter. There was an element of insanity in his works, whether it was a documentary about a desert or a thriller depicting the lost cause of the conquistadors. I wanted to pen a good paper, but I struggled to figure out the major themes in Herzog's films. Klaus Kinski's pair of bulbous eyes, which was screaming with madness, was the only thing I would give a good guess. The others didn't do a better job.

I made another round of (online) browsing. Tuberculosis inspiring Victorian fashion. The long-lasting legacy of migration. Naming a puppy after Karl Marx. The author of the last one seemed to have an odd sense of humor, as he thought of Mad Max instead. And then I stumbled into an interesting piece about artists who wanted to keep the old custom of putting pen to paper. I wouldn't relate to it, as I got used from typing on my laptop. It was convenient. I wasn't willing to put too much time into it. And social media would make sure that it won't happen again. Ever.

It's not the history of now

I glimpsed another article, which detailed the food intake of the gladiators. And it turned out that they were vegetarians. This hardly surprised me, as the Roman Emperor and his cohorts could afford the luxury of eating meat. And the gladiators exerted too much effort. No pain, no gain, they didn't coin it first. But they were aware of it. Another interesting article revealed how religious terrorism was behind the Great Fire of London. Could this be an after effect of the English Reformation? I didn't think about it, as I noticed the sun. It was another scorching afternoon. The season would come to an end soon.

I could have a productive season by looking for a (summer) job, but I earned my right to loaf for weeks. And we didn't go on a holiday. It wasn't a missed opportunity. (We visited the Great Lakes last year.) It turned out to be an uneventful one, which I would remember wistfully many months from now. I could imagine the cold temperature while I struggled to get warm and beat the deadline. There won't be an end to my worries, which would turn this humid afternoon into an almost perfect moment. And then I recalled the unread messages from my coursemates.