So ends the first week of the new school year and, as usual, it has me doing some thinking and reflecting as I try to put some thoughts and words together into something approaching a cohesive whole.
It’s also the first weekend of TIFF- so the city has exploded in celebration of the science of illusion-creation.
As the temperature soars (40 degrees when you factor in the humidity today) I’m doing my best to keep cool and carry on (amidst the insane crowds ’round my neck o’ the woods), so I’m thinking that the first part of the weekend will include watching the mini-series about the master of illusions that is hanging out on the PVR awaiting my gaze.
This time of year is always one of reflection for me. I think it has to do with the whole ‘new beginnings’ thing that comes with the start of a new school year. This is the fourth September that I won’t be heading back to the classroom- either as a student or a professor- after manymanyMANY years of it being the norm.
But I still find that the self-analysis and evaluation happens more at this time of year (and on Christmas Eve as well- pagan that I am) than at any other.
Heavy thoughts, sometimes, as the summer winds down and the last days of warm weather and relative quiet in the neighbourhood persist.
The other night I got to thinking about illusions- those we hold dear and those that we suddenly seem to discover either have been or are in desperate need of being shattered. Not just quietly set…
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