Originally, I had planned to keep a running commentary on whatever book I was reading. Then I discovered all the other blogs out there and didn't want to limit myself. I decided to go one day at a time and write whatever suited me. Each day reflects a different aspect of myself.
I am reading a book by Dostoyevsky called "The Idiot." I have not read any novel by him before, although Russian masters such as Tolstoy amaze me.
I am reading about a man who others think of as an idiot. He is an epileptic, wounded so that he is thought of as strange and slow.
He speaks of substance.
He speaks well.
I see no evidence.
thinks what others don't think of
and sees things that others don't see.