Outside has suddenly become so cold this weekend that I've been avoiding leaving the warmth of the
house unless I absolutely have to. I've spent a great deal of time writing and reading, and have
revisited Kundera's The Unbearable Lightness of Being ('The idea of an eternal return is a mysterious
one, and Nietzche has often purplexed other philosophers with it: to think that everything recurs as
we once experienced it, and that the recurrence itself recurs ad infinitum! What does this mad myth
signify?'). The pages of my copy are falling out, it is so well loved.