I would like to (at least modestly) broadcast a valediction to the waning hours of 2012, a year so diverse and opulent in the curiosities it inspires that it seems almost wrong to place these abstract wisps of experience under the same archive of four lustreless digits.
As always, it pains me to say that I have nothing of profundity to attribute to this topic. At this particular moment I fail to recall everything that could have possibly mattered in the year that has passed. And there is living proof of this in the twelve coloured Moleskine cahiers, most of which stand empty, the rest devoid of true substance. (My inability to record what I wish to remember has proved itself chronic, and the severity of such a problem has induced an embarrassing magnitude of emotional strain.)
Though it has probably materialised in my head, I probably won't be producing a list of New Year resolutions as things nearly always fall short of tangibility once they are in written form.
Here's to a month-or-so of correcting twos into threes on nearly every paper I write.
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