J. D. Salinger: The Catcher in the Rye

 

That's the whole trouble. You can't ever find a place that's nice and peaceful, because there isn't any.  You may think there is, but once you get there, when you're not looking, somebody'll sneak up and write "Fuck you" right under your nose.

(Holden Caulfield)

For me the problem isn't about visual but about auditory pollution, but otherwise I absolutely agree: as soon as you find someplace that feels 'nice and peaceful', pretty soon somebody will start DIY, blethering or even shouting, playing music, whatever to make the place no longer peaceful. The only way to prevent this is simply being somewhere where there are no people.

But that, of course, has problems of its own.

 

Hösten

Well, the hated summer is finally over. It was even harder to get through than usual this year, but it seems that somehow I've managed. I weigh less than 50 kilo, suffer from bellyache and backache on a daily (or rather, nightly) basis, can hardly stand or walk without bending forward for more than a couple of minutes, blurred vision began reoccuring, dozing off during the day is often a must, skitters basically chronic, and so on; most worrying of all, there were recently even some signs of possible old-age incontinence.

But the temperatures are eventually back to normal, and after resting for a week, doing more or less nothing but lying in bed and reading, I've started at last a serious attempt to get back in shape, pull myself together and (re)commence doing all those things I've been, willy-nilly, neglecting for months. Like blogging, for instance.