I never thought college would make me appreciate writing as much as I do now. I thought I'd get sick of writing so much. And I do sometimes, but I appreciate it too.

 Also, I'm not sure why the seagulls are still sticking around. Maybe they're as confused about the weather lately as I've been. I've appropriately re-named them "snowgulls".

I don't know what it is, but Sundays always feel nostalgic. I can't tell if it's something in the air, or because we're getting ready to start another week. It seems like I always think of bittersweet things. It's strange when things are gone, and to know they're probably not coming back. It's even more strange not knowing how or where they've gone to. And the sad music never helps.

a prison cell in 1930 in france (I'm not sure who took it)

I found this image while I was looking for a piece of Schiele's. Actually the whole blog is interesting (here: http://secretsofajewishbaker.blogspot.com/2009_07_01_archive.html)