Let me just post this before I forget:…

(Quixotic in the title simply because I like its sound, by the way.)

I went to the Morgan Library Museum today; it was fantastic. There was an exhibit on Albrecht Durer, whom I learned about in AP Euro, but not in depth; about Palladio, all these wonderful architectural buildings like Thomas Jefferson’s home and The┬áPantheon. I feel like I learned a lot and have a kindled interest in history. It’s too bad I didn’t take a camera, but then again, they wouldn’t have let you take pictures. So it’s too bad they didn’t let that.

I really liked looking at olden handwriting. It struck me that the person is deceased, and have been for quite some time… And yet their writing lives on, telling this ephemeral yet perpetual tale, going in circles and never really finishing because you wonder what happened afterwards of the diary events, yet you know that those events have already come to pass and are long forgotten and nobody knows them and in the wind…

It’s such a strange feeling.