'Start Up Nation'

Whoever thought that non-fiction was aso an art? I always thought it was a recollection of articles commenting on a certain thing, maybe a tad of editorial, but that's pretty much it. Recently, I started this book, 'Start Up Nation', because I was fretting over the fact that quite frankly, I was quite ignorant when it came to a theme many people associate me to, and that theme is Israel. 'Bombs and men beating their wives, you don't wanna go there.' Something I've heard over time. Well, yeah, 'x' stereotyped average human being is so wrong, but why? Israel is a great place: it's a coalition of opposing forces concentrated into one tiny nation-the size of New Jersey. It's an area of a dense, rich, thick flow of EVERYTHING: art, engineering, religion, sex, identity, creativity, pragmatism... It's THE place if you want to pursue something you've only just recently discovered and find out more about, for example, yourself (?) But that's all I have to say. For those who ask the legitimate 'How' and 'Why', I can't properly explain. 'Start Up Nation' does exaclty that. It helps you to explain the 'whys' and 'hows' of Israel. It's basically an entire editorial, complete with fun, witty annecdotes on chapters explaining the Israeli mind set, their social hierarchy, their battlefield techniques, their gumption. I have not finished it yet-it's one of those books which has a lot of ideas you can ponder over and come back to in due course. A recommended read, especially (and evidently) if you're interested in this little country's whereabouts and brief history. Or you want to become a leader/develop your leadership skills in a few hours; it's the perfect book, honest. Keep reading, my children.

The French Lietenant's Woman

The only book I've read by the (pedantic?) John Fowles. I found that the novel was, surprisingly, a modern, ironic intake on Victorian fiction, where Fowles lightly sprinkles a critical vision upon typical Victorian characters and literature. Delving deeper into the story though (no spoilers), the theme of the novel is truly that of appearance and reality, like so many other authors have chosen to interpret through their writing. It is the way in which we view ourselves, and the way in which we deem others and therefore, the way in which we consider others to either fit into our hibitual realms, how they as 'foreign elements' would fit into our norms of life, how we can mold ourselves to fit into theirs and, most importantly, whether it is necessary or whether we should merely continue with what we know and are comfortable with. Such is the case of Charles, Ernestina and Sarah, This peculiar love triangle, amidst a dense boast on how Fowles is so extremely talented and culturally educated, is what leads the reader to understand the deep and meaningful theme. It's true, Fowles is an extremely talented author-as far as I've read (my Fowles literature, as mentioned before, does not go beyond this novel). He proves it to us by taking a mundane theme and twisting it till the very end, where he offers us three possible endings to the story. None of this was truly impacting, but the way in which Fowles chooses to criticize the Victorian mind set and simultaneously create a work of literary art is quite wonderful.

The Golden Ratio

I had to mention it somewhere. The Golden Ratio is what defines the scientific and artistic balance in nature and even more so, in ourselves. Here is a mediocre definition: the Greeks sought the way in which nature could be so 'perfect', and they discovered a rectilinear, perfectly in proportion triangle which repeated itself often in their surroundings. As a consequence, they used this geometric polygon with beautiful proportions in their architecture; the Parthenon, the Venus of Milo, and later on, used in French architecture from the 12th century in the Notre Dame Cathedral amidst its gothic intake. Da Vinci incorporated it into his Mona Lisa, the modern masters realised it was the spotless subject in common when painting and drawing human figures. It remained that this beautifully proportioned rectangle was nature's cheat sheet. Apparently, it all started with the pentagram, which held mathematical proportions equal to the eventual ratio when taking two consecutive numbers in the Fibonacci series (where each subsequent number is the sum of the previous two, beginning with 0 and 1). One comes to realise that the ratio between the numbers begins to settle, and arrive closer and closer to the number 1.61... or Phi, also known as The Golden Ratio. A piece of information, when a ratio is 'golden', this means that the ratio of a to b is the same as the ratio of of b to the sum of a and b, in other words:
a : b = b : a+b
Beautifully complicated, right? But something still used today-we are influenced by Egyptian architecture, the Pyramids. They date back to the 1st Century BC. This has to mean something. Anyway, when it all comes down to it, everything is a hybrid of science and art. The Greeks knew it, the Egyptians knew it, and now the greatest thinkers, architects, artists of our time know it. And it will stay known. And I hope to find a more sophisticated definition of it someplace!

Fireflies on Water

This is something most people would deem 'a good title for a short story'. Or something out of a Japanese folk tale. It's close enough, it's the title Kusama gave to an installation she ingeniously put together a few years ago I came across because, a few years ago, that is, she exhibited in Madrid. Regretfully, I missed it, but I am absolutely awed by the pictures alone. I mean, wow. 150 lights over a shallow pool of water in a darkened room where the walls are covered in mirrors. Sounds simple, no? The brilliance of the idea actually is far from simple. It's simplicity is actually mind blowing, as the endless echo of images around the panorama gives way to a sense of absolute endlessness, as Yayoi Kusama provides a porthole into a different dimension we can only dream about-and she makes it tangible. I linked it into my art personal study, particulary within the exploration of blue in art, and focusing on the way blue represents the elements. Kusama could not have done a better job in depicting nature-air, water, life. It's blue all over, in spite of its colour. It shouts out 'I am alive, this is where I am, I am absolutely surrounded by magnificence.' I wonder what she'll come up with next...

The Night Circus

Having not picked up a book in...too long in August, and despairing on my trip to Paris because this meant I had nothing to read over the weekend (for those of you reading between the lines, yes, it's Sabbath), and I had to do with tatty comics at the hotel lobby, I was relieved when my brother purchased a copy of a random bestelleling novel at the airport coming back to Madrid. That, and a Time magazine to get some 'serious' update on the Syria problem (the article is pretty good, but more like a historical article rather than an opinion column or whatever. I thought Time was deeper than that...but anyway). The book he bought was 'The Night Circus' by Erin Morgenstern (there was a Rabbi names Morgenstern where I studied in Israel this summer. HiLArious.) The front cover was intriguing enough, if not a little girly, and taking advantage of my brother's interest in Time, I started reading as soon as I pulled it out of the bag. I's five hundred pages or so long, an easy and quick read, and I must say, like Cloud Atlas, I devoured it. It's a love story in a fantastical atmosphere where magic and lve intertwine to hold our planet together in ways we can only imagine. If I had to describe the book in one word it would be: goosebumps. Because that was the word that was stuck in my brain all through the book. Goosebumps. The richness of the language had such an elegant flow to it, the metamorphosis of each character so subtle yet clear by the end of each seciton, and the beautiful colours and dense description. The world I got lost in in 'The Night Circus' was utterly luscious and delectable. It's definitely a book I'll be reading again, just to get lost in the circus' black-and-silver tepees, and see the colourful acrobats do their thing, and fall in love with Marco. No, it isn't a book that makes you think, let alone draw any insightful/deep conclusions, but it's a gorgeous read, and truly inspiring in the sophisticated way it's written.

'Why on Earth did you read 'Cloud Atlas'? No one else did.'

A legitimate question posed to me by someone regarding my Personal Statement (eek.) Why DID I read Cloud Atlas? Because we read the first two chapters in class and I found it fascinating how Mitchell could possibly link in two seemingly COMPLETELY different ideas, characters, scenarios, and actually make a novel out of it. A best selling one, mind you. It had to pose some deep and meaningful question to the reader, no? Curiosity overwhelmed me, and yes, I asked this same someone for the book and I devoured it in a matter of days. It was not the best book I ever read, it probably doesn't come in top five best either, but it was impacting. Why? Because I identified on so many different levels. So much was going on, I find a bit of every world around me: this reminded me of that and this of that and both, although completely different, are part of the same book! It's the architecture of the novel. It's utterly fantastic and brilliant and so, so sophisticated and elegant that one streams through the novel without even realizing. I fell in love with the world of the amanuensis in particular, and I fell in love with him also, just one example. Even the film isn't so bad, though the repetitions of actors for the reincarnations bothered me to the extreme. Why did I read the book? Curiosity. But like everything...

Universities in the UK are unsurprisingly obsessed with their applicants reading. Reading is great (evidently), but I truly had absolutely NO idea what to read for an architecture application. So, I did what any UK university applicant thinking about embelishing their personal statement would (probably) do; I went onto the Cambridge architecture course website and searched for recommended reads. Amongst the list, 'Body, Memory and Architecture' by Kent C. Bloomer and Charles W. Moore. My dear mother purchased a second hand edition in perfect conditions on Amazon (Yale Univesity Press). I had read the first chapter twice, but it was only today chilling at the beach that I actually grasped the essence of the book; the way in which space interacts with not only the person, but the human body, how the home is the extension of man, and every part of a home represents something human. Beautiful, no? Next is the definition of beauty. The chapter seemingly has little to do with aarchitecture, but soon goes into arguing the fact that architecture used to be considered a mere science, not an art, and only later was pragmatic mechanics of a building with a purpose considered beautiful. And only after THIS was the pragmatic mechanics of a building with a purpose combined with basic aesthetics to create an alteration of space which can be considered art in the eyes of everyone who encounters it. It's really well written, no joke, especially for those who think about studying the art of altring space...

Keep reading.

Having seen the Wasteland performed majestically and rather brilliantly by Fiona Shaw, I regret to say that although her expressions, her dynamism through movement and tone and her enthusiasm when relating the 23-minute poem made it infinitely easier, I still found it a poem seemingly impossible to understand. I read over it once out loud to attempt a further understanding of the complex poem and surprisingly, ideas that hadn’t occurred to me the first time I heard the poem began to bloom, for example the extended metaphor within the section ‘The Fire-Sermon’. The ‘female breasted man’, Tiresias, is something out of the ordinary, as his name suggests, a fantastical character extracted from a Greek or Roman myth or legend. He describes himself, comparing himself to a ‘taxi throbbing, waiting’, again suggesting the idea of the mechanical versus the natural, and the real versus the fantastic. His ‘waiting’ shows his desolate nature, torn between two sexes and unsure of his life’s path. In a completely pure and in no way voyeuristic, he contemplates a man ‘rudely forced’ into a woman, whose boredom is clear. One imagines how tragic it is that one who in lost in the world and who mourns his identity, contemplates the regular mortals and comes to realize that even they are unsure of their lives’ paths. This anecdote amongst so many others within ‘The Wasteland’ is a common problem: the assertion of identity and the strife to assert one’s identity by comparing oneself to others.

Perhaps the song that follows this section is part of a random stream of consciousness, which was necessary within the poem, as it is in itself the running of thoughts of the narrative voice. Or perhaps, as it comes directly after a short story about one’s assertion of identity, it is a medium through which the narrative voice asserts his personality, as music is a common way to identify oneself. The use of places shows, again, the importance of identity.

Having understood the section of ‘The Fire Sermon’ best within the poem, I believe that ‘The Wasteland’ is essentially a poem about identity, about finding oneself, through themes such as the latter, sexuality, death, relationships and time. 

Not only does the above painting have IMMENSE sentimental value for me, but it's also probably the best watercolour I've ever done (not to be inmodest or anything...) I think it was when I was three or four, my parents took a random trip to Las Vegas Nevada and they went to see the Cirque du Soleil there, bringing back with them a prospectus thing with photographs of colourful jugglers, clowns, acrobats... I fell in love with the harmonious colours and the extravagance yet elegance of the pictures, and in particular, with the front cover, which I knew that one day I would be able to draw. And I did, when I was nine or ten. I rememebr I was so proud of that drawing, it had taken me hours if not days to finish! I'm so upset I can't find it now...but anyway. My theme for my externally set assignment for my AS Level Art was 'Covert and Obscured'. To begin with, I looked at the way in which external appearance may differ from what's truly under that outfit, that makeup, that facial expression, body language... And thus, I looked at art within the circus (incidentally relating to my previous entry, using paintings from the Thyssen, including one called 'Chico in a Top Hat' and 'The Fire Eater' or 'The Fire Breather'). 'Dralion' came back to me, and I revisited my past masterpiece by painting an ode to it, in watercolour. It was extremely hard to begin, but I think it's a copy which I've most thoroughly enjoyed completing during my brief life as an avid artist (?). 

I also dedicated it to someone very special, the person who saw me within the process and who saw the final result. 'Our Dragon'.

Keep arting, good sirs and ladysirs. 

Pissarro at the Thyssen

My siblings are away, I have extremely little to do, therefore it was relatively straightforward to convince my parents to come with me to the tomporary exhibition at the Thyssen Museum in Madrid. The museum collects paintings by the impressionist Camille Pissarro in a brief but dense exhibition which I highly recommend to anyone who has the chance to see it.
I am a huge fan of impressionism. Since I can remember, there is a print of Van Gogh's 'St Petersburg' hung up in every different living room we've lived in since I was born. Thus my love for impressionism? Perhaps. Well, Pissarro reminded me a lot of Van Gogh anyway, which is odd because they had little to do with each other. Apparently, though, he and Monet were really close, and worked on sister pieces together. I would not have guessed this if it hadn't been for my Dad who rented the audioguide for the tour of the exhibition!
I realized that Pissarro had an extense love for paths and roads, which dominates most of his earlier paintings, when he painted natural landscapes. He also has an extremely modern way of painting certain things from unexpected oints of view-up in a tree, from his balcony when he was sick, from a difficult angle...This reminded me a bit of Dégas' way of capturing a scene in a photographic way, yet the latter combined with Pissarro's impressionist features beholds something extraoirdinary.

So today I got an email from my school informing me on when my A-Level results are published (for those of you doing A-Levels, I bet you're all VERY excited.) These results pretty much decide my future, and restrict me or permit me to apply to those universities which are my top choice for (see picture above) architecture. In all honesty, I wasn't at all sure as to whether architeccture was for me: I struggle with technology, I've looked at student maquets and they seem mundane, bland, and I had never really had a true passion for buildings. Nevertheless, I considered what I was good at at school and architecture pretty much sums it up. So I thought, maybe it will do it for me at uni? That's when I decided to look into the facet of architecture that I like most: design. I spoke to architecture students, I am more or less informed on how architecture courses vary in my Spain and in the UK, and I've even been given optional homework to do over the summer by and architect; looking at styles of the forefathers of architecture: Le Corbusier, Aalto, Van de Rohe, Lloyd Wright...The list goes on to include modern architects such as Gehry, Foster (a personal favorite) and Chipperfield. Before doing all this extense research however, I drew. Drawing relaxes me. I went to TIger one day and purchased a Moleskine imitation for two euros and went out and drew Madrid's Palacio Real, Plaza de Castilla, Palacio de Correos... And I came across a gorgeous picture which balances classic architecture and modern architecture in central London. It took me a long while and someday I will finish the drawing (ode to Foster's Gherkin). But in a nutshell, the drawing above was the starting point of my architecture-bound state of mind. 

This weekend I finally got through Huxley's 'A Brave New World'. It was hard to get through at first, as previously mentioned but it wasn't bad in the end! Not my favorite book but I was really happy to find that I was capable of getting most of the the Shakespeare references, in particular his 'The Tempest', which I had to learn off by heart for a school production last March (standing ovation for my English teacher). I got goosebumps when John gets all excited about going to London, and quotes Miranda's speech: 'O wonder...O brave new world that has such goodly creatures in it...' Or something along those lines, to which I, Prospero, had to respond: '`Tis new to thee'. Then all the witty references of chastity and purity to Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, and Othello, I'm pretty sure, as well as part of Hamlet's famous monologue, 'To be or not to be, whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer...'. John is a pretty awesome character. You feel sorry for him, so good looking, high cheekbones, dirty blonde hair, a bit scrawny but his self confidence draws one's attention away from that (that was how I imagined him at least!) And let's not forget extremely intelligent and keen, an avid Shakespeare reader and a man with morals and principals people should envy and strive to follow. HOWEVER, Huxley's constant reference to Shakespeare is...too constant? Sometimes the guy just seems pedantic, as if he were trying too hard to make a point of showing off his extreme literary knowledge. It reminded me a lot of Fowle's 'The Fremnch Lieutenant's Woman', where Fowle's struggles to shut up and get on with the novel. About forty per cent of the book is the author going on about history and general culture in a tone in which franakly, you feel like closing the book and putting it away in a safe, close the safe, eat the key and never think about the book again. Luckily for him, he is a good writer, and 'The French Lietenant's Woman' has a style which is extremely attractive to the reader, at least, to me. I thought the ending was brilliant (or should I say, endings?).
 Anyway, so that was my experience with Huxley's 'A Brave New World'. It's definitely a necessary book to have read at some point in your life, probably when undergoing religious apathy...it speaks to one, in that sense, if you let it speak to you.
Keep expressing!

A copy of work by Egon Schiele by yours truly. I used gouache for the first time on pastel paper, and I think the effect is pretty accurate. The colours in mine are far richer than in Schiele's original, which kind of changes the essence of the piece. His wor is in Madrid's Thyssen museum and I remember seeing it for the first time, next to a similarly styled drawing by the same artist, how the light flow and uninterested way in which he draws and paints, fearlessly mixing media and painting in such a crude, raw manner is so apparent in Schiele's work. I fell in love with it. Yet, my copy has little to do with what he was striving to convey. Perhaps it's the media, or perhaps it's the fact that no matter how accurate you are in copying someone's art, you have a style that no one can imitate, not even yourself. It'll just appear in your works, whether you like it or not. And I think that this year has helped me come to realize that. And I am so grateful for it, it makes me want to create, create, create...

And here is the gorgeous front cover of the paperback I read, artwork by the great Shepard Fairey-utter genius. I wonder if they keep track of how many people tattoo his Big Brother on their bodies. It would be an interesting statistic... First time I saw his artwork was when I purchased my very first CD; 'Monkey Business' by the Black Eyed Peas. I fell in love with their music and I fell in love with the front cover of their CD. It was my brother who told me just a few years ago about Fairey, and that he was the artist who came up with the design. Genius. I think it's so unique and bold and striking...THAT is powerful art. 

I finished the essay on the individual! So anyone looking for ways in which the state controls the individual within Orwell's totalitarian '1984', you're in luck, because here it is in all its glory! Enjoy it and I REALLY hope you like it (writing essays during summer holidays it totally not cool.)

“In what ways does the state control the individuals in 1984 and what effects does these have on them?”

Orwell’s celebrated ‘1984’ explores an unnerving dystopian future in which the utopian ideal of communism is imposed upon every individual to run the state. The control of the individual is one of the themes explored in detail within the novel, and Orwell’s extended use of symbolism through certain objects and concepts lead one to understand to what extent the state controls the individual under the regime of Big Brother.

Possibly the most striking object described in the first chapter are the telescreens; an ‘oblong metal plaque like a dulled mirror which formed part of the surface of the right-hand wall’. The detailed description of the object lead one to understand its importance, yet the third-person narration conveys a sense of familiarity, as Winston is not omnipresent in the narration of the description. The fact that Winston is indifferent to the presence of the telescreens create an unnerving sense of foreboding, as one is gradually lead to imagine a world in which one’s movements are all recorded by the telescreens: “…[the telescreen] could be dimmed but there was no way of shutting it off completely.” Oceanians are constantly being monitored, and together with the telescreens, the imposing police patrol survey the city in their helicopters, “like bluebottle[s] […] [darting] away again with a curving flight.” Again, Winston’s indifference is apparent within the text, altered only at the mention of the Thought Police, which seems like an opinion uttered by Winston himself in spite of the third-person narration: “The patrols did not matter, however. Only the Thought Police mattered.” The narration subtly shifts from a relation of facts to an opinion, in which Winston evidently plays a part. The presence of the patrols as well as the telescreens seem like concepts which are familiar to Winston, and therefore to the rest of the Oceanians, as one is merely being introduced to a new dystopian universe where the narrated facts are the only source of information. At the mention of the Thought Police, however, one comes to understand the deep-rooted fear this has on the Oceanians, as not only are their movements and expressions being monitored, but also their most intimate thoughts, which can be heavily sanctioned, as is suggested in the first chapter: “Only the Thought Police mattered.”

            The concept of the Thought Police itself explicitly demonstrates to what extent the state controls the individual, yet all that it implies reaches a deeper point which shows that the individual is controlled to an unimaginable extent: the members of the Thought Police are anonymous, and their utter dedication and passion towards the party is apparent through their ruthless ability to deceive and betray. Such is the case of Mr. Charrington, the owner of the antique shop where Winston ironically purchased the journal he began to materialize his hate for the state in: “It occurred to Winston that for the first time in his life he was looking, with knowledge, at a member of the Thought Police.” Before meeting Julia, Winston even believed that ‘the dark-haired girl’ was a member of the Thought-Police herself, and he as an individual is set upon the need to use violence to wipe her out: “He could keep on her track till they were in some quiet place, and then smash her skull in with a cobblestone.” In this way, Winston himself is consumed with paranoia, and therefore controlled by the state.

 The built-in mechanism of betrayal amongst individuals is fruit of the education the state gives the younger generations, as is revealed through Winston’s neighbors’ children: “ ‘You’re a traitor!’ yelled the boy. ‘You’re a thought-criminal! You’re a Eurasian spy! I’ll shoot you, I’ll vaporize you, I’ll send you to the salt mines!’”. The striking way in which the public automatically accepts the fact that chocolate rations had been raised instead of lowered may also be considered as an end result of what is the state’s uncanny ability to brainwash the absolute majority of individuals from a younger and therefore more vulnerable age.

            The state’s education on the new generations begin with the simple art of propaganda, where London is covered with posters of Big Brother-a mysterious character who takes up the role of a god within the state. Individuals are convinced through posters, events such as ‘Hate Week’ and daily routines involving the ‘Two Minutes Hate’ that Big Brother is a source of guaranteed protection and as long as He looks upon them from the posters and telescreens, no harm can be done to them. Furthermore, Winston’s job, which involves tampering with old articles and first hand sources in order to rewrite history leads the entire population to doubt their very thoughts, as hard evidence slowly ceases to exist.

The state’s reasons for brainwashing the population is revealed to its full extent prior to Winston’s arrest, where he is taken, ironically, to the Ministry of Love. Here, he learns from the mouth of O’brien, one who was considered an ally to his morals, of the way in which the state is run, imposed upon everyone, and therefore one encounters a logical explanation for the existence of the Thought Police: “ ‘…why do you imagine that we bring people to this place? […] Not merely to extract your confession nor to punish you. […] To cure you! To make you sane! […] We do not merely destroy our enemies, we change them.’” Orwell’s totalitarian view of the future within the novel is one where not only is Big Brother’s political system is imposed upon every individual, but he who shows any symptom of disagreeing with it, even subconsciously, as is the case of Parsons, is to be tortured and reeducated till he believes that his past self was mentally deranged and that the state has cured him of some disease. The latter also carries some explanation to the fact that people praise Big Brother for their ‘chocolate rations being raised’, when Winston is certain that they had been lowered earlier within the novel, and is lead to doubt his sanity as he looks at those surrounding him who are happily accepting the erroneous information.

It remains that the totalitarian state within Orwell’s ‘1984’ goes through drastic measures to control every single individual through the means of brainwashing to the extent where even the reader doubts the very source of their own thoughts. Although the measures taken up by the state vary in gravity, they are all present with a common aim: to abolish the idea of freedom of thought without it being apparent to any individual, and thus to eliminate the actual concept of an ‘individual’. In this way, the individual is affected in a similar manner with every manner taken; slowly, the individual comes to understand how wrong he is as a person, and that his mental state is being soothed by the state to make it right.

Hello!
For those of you who are Jewish, you probably know (hopefully know!) That today is T'sha B'av, a rare sad day in the Jewsih calendar where every Jew is to fast from the night before to the following night. My tummy aches a little and I feel light-headed unsurprisingly. I took advantage of this mourn day to write an essay on Orwell's '1984' (always a fan of distopian fiction...). Anyway, the essay title is: 'In what ways does the state control the individual and what effects do they have on them?" (courtesy of my lovely English teacher). I thought inside the box at first: propaganda, Big Brother, the Thought Police and everything that covers 'thoughtcrime'... However it got me thinking; Orwell is being pretty accurate to some extent. Big Brother is evidently a symbol of God, and plenty of people today believe that if they believe in God, He will watch over them and be protected. To what extent is religion corrupting people? It's obviously a delicate subject, especially coming from a person who is undergoing a strong apathetic phase.
Well.
Then there's the fact that it's imposed on chinldren so that they grow up to be members of the Thought Police. I guess you could say that some children have religion imposed on THEM. But then again, Judaism WANTS you to ask questions. And then, what is it with people who suddenly decide to convert to Judaism? They go against the realms of their mini social circles and suddenly become Rabbis, or active members of the Jewish community or whatever. WHAT is going on through their heads? I just don't get it!
Keep reading, guys! (Please read me!!)
Naomi

Suffering from technical difficulties on the second day of blogging (not that anyone cares. Ha, ha, ha.) Anyway, yesterday I opened a blog and since I am not a big fan of technology, I opened a whole new email account on gmail which was totally unnecessary.

A little summary of what I was going through yesterday: the complications of Huxley's 'A Brave New World', which I am currently reading.
So yesterday was a pretty average day; I felt like spending some time alone so I went to the center of Madrid with a cheap blank-page notebook and sketched the Puerta de Alcalá and the Royal Palace, which was nice. On my way there, of course, I proceeded in reading my novel. To be honest, it still seems a bit strange to me. I understood the racial 'side' of London's society within the distopia, and Lenina's mainstream way of thinking which clashes with Bernard's alternative and more human way of thinking...It's interesting! However, the book is 200 odd pages long and I'm about halfway through....The actual plot hasn't been reached yet. Any comments? Am I understanding the book to its fullest extent, because I'm getting the feeling that I'm not...Oh, well. 
Keep reading and expressing yourselves,
Naomi