Wishful

Could it be that the book I’m currently reading is affecting me in some peculiar way I’m not consciously aware of yet? Edith Wharton’s The Age of Innocence. It’s not that I have seen the movie a hundred times but the actual number is around 15 and over. The book is beautiful but I can’t help to notice the enormous contrast between relationships then and now. It’s a lost world, less spoiled, in which people mattered more (probably due to the lack of other amusements). I’d choose honesty over hypocrisy but I prefer hypocrisy before indifference. I should’ve been born a century ago (but then again there was no internet then…what a dilemma)…

To be (eventually) continued…