(photos taken on my iphone, near Offchurch)

I dusted the cobwebs off of my mountain back yesterday and went for a ride in the countryside. It’s amazing that when you look closer, you can find all sorts in your own back garden. There isn’t a need to travel to far off places to find and experience things you’ve never done before.

Anyway, it was nice to get out and ride. I did 16 miles altogether. (I went out for a short ride today. Boy, my butt bones ache!)

I’ve started reading Leo Tolstoy’s Family and Happiness and it’s got me thinking about literature. More specifically I’ve been brooding over the questions of why literature is important and what purpose does it serve? When I read literary works like Tolstoy’s I directly experience the intellectual gravity of literature. His exploration of the nature of love inspires me. It challenges me to think about what it means to be in love and what it means to be married. Reading Tolstoy reminds me why I want to write. I write not for fame or fortune, but to explore questions and concepts that plague me.

“Happiness is only to be had in living for another.”