There is never enough time to do everything I want. There are endless projects I want to knit, books to read, places to visit, people to meet…

Reading Anais Nin’s Diary over coffee at breakfast (while holding it at full arm’s stretch because I left my reading glasses in my knitting bag) I want to come home and spend the day reading Neruda’s poems. I want to go back in time to live in Paris during the early 1930’s.

The world is so vast I cannot satisfy my desires.

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