11.01.05
The End of Something
“There’s our old ruin, Nick,” Marjorie said.
Nick, rowing, looked at the white stone in the green trees.
“There it is,” he said.
“Can you remember when it was a mill?” Marjorie asked.
“I can just remember,” Nick said.
“It seems more like a castle,” Marjorie said.
Nick said nothing. They rowed on out of sight of the mill, following the shore line. Then Nick cut across the bay.
Nick, rowing, looked at the white stone in the green trees.
“There it is,” he said.
“Can you remember when it was a mill?” Marjorie asked.
“I can just remember,” Nick said.
“It seems more like a castle,” Marjorie said.
Nick said nothing. They rowed on out of sight of the mill, following the shore line. Then Nick cut across the bay.
– Ernest Hemingway, “The End of Something”
After fifty-one weeks of writing and almost 700 posts, I’ve come to understand that daily blogging is incompatible with several aspects of my life. Most notably, it’s impossible for me to finish my dissertation with the majority of my energy directed towards the blog.
And so, with great reluctance and much regret, I have decided to put The Tattered Coat on hold. I will leave the site up, but will not post anything for some time.
If you want to stay in touch, or hear from me when I start posting again, please send me an email.
I would like to give my deepest thanks to everyone who read, linked to, or commented on my posts here.
You made it all worthwhile.
