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Coming back home after a fun expedition, with Jacques Brel running through your head, to see the moon so large, bright and yellow that you momentarily mistake it for the sun. And then watching the clouds dance across it and doing nothing but staring. Apparently, it wont be brighter for another 25 years.
My first experience with Old French. Beautiful.
Reading books more than 50 years old. You really start to appreciate the English language, its complexity and beauty and the panaply of words to discover. The sad feeling that books seem to be dumbed down these days may belong to Mordor, but the nostalgia of old books definitely goes to the Shire.
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