A general day in the life.

"Il n'y a qu'une vie, c'est donc qu'elle est parfaite."

This, according to secondary sources (sorry Nat Geo), is by a poet called Éluard from his work Une leçon de morale. It means "There is only one life; it is therefore perfect."Sometime I will have to read the original work.

For the most part of the last month and a half (except for my lovely vacation with my parents and Sarah) my perfect life has been divided into constructing and deconstructing my home; thinking about, making, eating, and cleaning up after food; cycling; showering; and sleeping. (I'm going to hope that the punctuation I used there was vaguely correct).

I've never felt more outside in my life. When I wake up, the first thing that happens is that my feet touch grass. I already know the temperature, because I'm wearing a proportionate number of socks to degrees celsius. I've learned how to position my tent so as to get full morning sun (burns off the dew and coaxes me from my sleeping bag), yet catches the shade of a tree or building, or campervan, in the heat of the afternoon/early evening.

The wind is meaningful. It could mean a wonderful day, it could mean a day of invisible battles. In general, wind is that acquaintance you're not sure you're really able to trust. Moody. I'd much rather have rain or even an incline to climb than a strong headwind.

When I'm hungry, I stop and pick strawberries from a roadside "pick your own" farm.

When I'm tired, I take a break, eat strawberries, and draw, paint, or look up all the French words I've not understood or not been able to dredge from my brain.

All in all, there are no complaints from this direction (I even try not to complain internally when I'm biking up long hills). Because, it's all perfect, because it's my life, and I have no other. Why not live now the best way I can, and appreciate it for all that it is--days of sun or days of rain, days of good food and days of reactions to bad cheese, days of tail winds with easy arrivals and days stuck trying to cross giant highways and losing my way in frustration. It's mine, and it's perfect.