It always rolls past somehow or other. This time I was dipping in and out of three books I'm reviewing this week, while wondering (this thought continually recurs to me) why somebody would read a collection of poetry. By choice, I mean.
It was a close call. During this last week of college work, I wasn't sure I would actually make it to Friday. But it's amazing how this always somehow happens (or has always somehow happened so far). I've just read that Adrian Mitchell has left the world. People are fragile. We don't continue forever.