I've started reading Louise Gluck's Ararat. This book is an example of how you can be successful at "telling" rather than "showing," provided that the telling is interesting. I find the titles of the poems to be uninspiring though. The title of the collection is very clever given the content of the book, which is about anxiety, loss, and death in a family. Mount Ararat is the place where Noah’s ark came to rest after the great flood. I’m interpreting the great flood in this book to be metaphorically shed tears, real tears or at least felt sadness and loss.

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Last night I dreamed again that I was walking around in Europe—in Germany I think. Similar to the repeating dreams I’ve talked about before on this blog where I’m back in high school or college, I have repeating dreams about walking around in Europe. Usually I’m half lost or cannot speak enough of the local language to accomplish what I’m trying to do in the dream.