: About Me

It seems strange that after so long and frigid a night, it's 8 AM before the cold wakes me. Strangeness doesn't keep me abed, though, and nor does the seductive allure of quilt's dreamy warmth. She's still asleep, of course. She could sleep through the apocalypse. It's but the work of a moment to retrieve the hot plate a kettle. The Deans don't like us to cook in our rooms, but I don't like to wake up without a cup of tea. Expulsion, I suppose, is my sword; tea my Damocles; addiction my string and... metaphors be damned, I smell hibiscus. They're months out of bloom, here, but they tell me...