No One Tells You How Much Of Life Takes Practice. Not Just Writing, Painting, Running, Singing, Etc,

when u goth but u also down w computers like

Court Ladies Bathing in the 18th Century (details)

François Flameng

occupations for an exiled wretch

As a seasoned practicioner of ‘social distancing’, there are a never-ending list of activities with which to occupy oneself during these unsettling and exiguous times. A mere sampling below:

i) partake in an opera viewing (or two, or three…) (x)(x)(x) ii) learn a new language (the better with which to summon ancient gods) iii) plan a music/drink pairing (x) iv) throw a surrealist fine dining party (for one), à la dalí (x) v) hold a séance (x) vi) peruse online archives (x)(x)(x) vii) write an epic poem viii) purchase a chateau (x) ix) plan the ideal world-travelling itinerary (food, lodging, and activities in each place along the way in painstaking detail) x) establish a secret society (password and uniform are mandatory)

This is so cool- who wants to take tea at Beatrix Potter’s house? Just follow the Peter Rabbit sign.

Isn’t this beautiful? It remains pretty much unchanged.

The current gardeners follow the vegetable gardens described in her books. 

Here’s the dollhouse described in her 1904 book, The Tale of Two Bad Mice, in which some cute vermin bust into a doll house and smash every ceramic plate and pastry to bits.

Potter was simply enchanted by the idea of creating whimsy on a smaller scale. In one corner of the house you’ll spot a collection of thimble-sized pots.

A few original pages from her books are on display.

Plus, her writing desk.

Cozy fireplace.

Dining area- notice the little stuffed characters from her books, around.

Lovely table for tea. Could you imagine? 

And, her luxurious bedroom. Gorgeous place.

https://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/features/visit-beatrix-potters-house

The Sheboygan Press, Wisconsin, February 14, 1932

[ding dong, ding dong]

Hello, sir and/or madam! Have you heard the good news?

An old photo of a place called Hell’s Cafe in Paris, which has since shut down. 

“Fiction teaches us that the sorrows of living are meaningful. Fiction restores the meaning. The experience which is being lived day by day may seem futile, destructive because the vision of totality is lacking. In the novel it acquires a pattern. It is fiction. It reaches beyond pain to the pattern of meaningfulness which consoles us for all the agonies, and uncovers elevations.”

Anaïs Nin, from The Diary of Anaïs Nin: Volume Five 1947-1955