June '07 (diary 5)

Ending in its various forms are often romanticised. Perceptions of it are so twisted that often I am just buried in my gush. Sick at heart. To drag myself back to the real world, I tried to count the days in my diary. I called the bookbinder this afternoon. The man said it would take 6 hours for three copies. Putting the phone down I felt weird. Quite weird. But then of course plans for later already have kicked off...