Here I am (it’s actually day 97) ten days behind. Let’s see what this little brain of mine can dredge up from the spectacular, from the ordinary, from the mud of these past ten days.
I know that during one of these, I read this passage and thought: exactly.
Cities, she thought, they’re the problem. Cities were stinking, festering places, like sores that never healed. Some were better than others — Elayne did an admirable job with Caemlyn — but the best of them gathered too many people and taught them to grow comfortable staying in one place. If those refugees had been accustomed to travel and had learned to use their own feet, rather than relying on horses as wetlands so often did, then it would not be so difficult for them to leave their towns. Among the Aiel, the craftsmen were trained to defend themselves, the children could live off the land for days, and even blacksmiths could travel great distances quickly. An entire sept could be on the move within an hour, carrying everything they needed on their backs.
I know that, on this same day, A made a difficult decision regarding his future. We also discussed moving, again. Never has there been a more thorny topic between the two of us. Well, my lack of cleanliness is sometimes up to the bid.
And the spectacular? Well, this weather shapes our days. We delight in the sunshine, the green grass, the blossoms that weigh down those slender branches.