Atterdagliggørelse

(side 294)

should it be an "open" kitchen, giving on to the everyday dining room, or a "closed" one, with a seperating wall? It's hard to know, because, really, it's up to the woman of the house, who will be the main user of the kitchen, so all the priest can do is speculate. Some women, he thinks, might want more privacy, less interference when they're cooking, while others would prefer not to be cut off from the other members of the family, who might be chatting chatting or enjoying some game at the table in the dining room. A sliding door would seem to be the synthesis that overcomes this problem, but, on due reflection, there's no need for an synthesis: all one has to do is make the kitchen large enough to include a dining area, should one be required, and have separate dining room as well.

Plan plan dagliggjort

(side 160)

The trip was (and is) related to what I've been claiming as my "vocation" all these years: literature. I know that my grandmother would prefer me to have a life. I'd prefer that too, of course. But I'm stubborn, as the wealk-willed often are, and I cling to a profession that's really no such thing, even though I may not be cut out for it, and haven't yet shown the slightest sign that I am. I persist in asserting, precisely, that literature does not require proof or aptitude. In my heart of hearts I never felt called to literature, or saw myself doing the work that such a vocation would entail. If I were to reply sicerely to the question of which professions I would have liked to pursue, had I possessed enough viogur to lead a real life; I'd have to list, in this order: ladies' hairdresser, ice cream vendor, bird and reptile taxidermist.

Dagsplan planeret

læsning
af
unyttig
bog
(The Musical Brain, tak for den, Naja!)
på
stenbænk
i
skyggen
i
haven
for
enden
af
byen