Journal Entry 222 / 0019 I can stare at weather charts all day and examine the underlying, artificial principles surrounding the seasonal cycles Pendor goes through on a 292-day period.Journal Entry 222 / 0019 I can stare at weather charts all day and examine the underlying, artificial principles surrounding the seasonal cycles Pendor goes through on a 292-day period. I can review charts of the amount of insulation being effected by the ebb and flow of weather vanes and the compressed fluids that carry the heat from the surface to the outer limits of space. I can look at a thermometer. But none of that really carries the weight of capitulation to the elements that making my first cup of hot cocoa for the winter does. It means I'm giving in, recognizing that I need to find an alternate way of pumping more heat into my body. It means that the logic that "I can survive this" doesn't help because it doesn't comfort. I thought about the weather, and about giving in, as I sat in my newly built home, just outside Rocchodain. It's a nice house, even if the bedroom door has the annoying habit of not locking properly, so that if the windows are open the wind will continuously open it and then slam it shut. I haven't got any furniture, but then I rarely use furniture; a floor does just as good for me. |