For some reason I really feel like blogging right now. Maybe it's because I've been reading for some hours now and that after having gotten into characters' heads and living their lives, it is as if I don't say something out loud I would get buried somehow. Hell even I'm writing unabashedly long sentences and begining these sentences with "Hell" like novelists occasionally do.
Now I have this space all to myself to shout to, I really can't think of anything so significant to write about, except these wood blinds that hang in my parent's window. I was cleaning these wood blinds today and I found their construction and the texture of each blind very delightful. I had never given any thoughts to how these lines were put together, but today I wondered about why these lines are thick and those are thin, how these strings are intertwined, etc. Of course I didn't grow so curious to an extent that I would take these blinds apart to learn its assembly, but I think I would be very happy to go to a blinds factory, or more particularly a wood blinds factory. I've grown so fond of the texture and the warmth of wood now now I think all furnitures with all colors besides the natural brown is gaudy. O I hope I'm not becoming pretentiously high-class or old-fashioned!
I'd very much like to attach a picture of my parents' wood blinds here but I've left my camera cord at school! But to make this post look fuller and colorful (hmm), I'll put in a picture of a setting with wood blinds that make me happy! hehe