After reconsidering the plan several times, I finally made my way to the gorgeous vintage wonder that is the Legion of Honor, sitted atop small rolling hills and surrounded by a golf course. The fog was strong today, which explained the briskness of the weather and the thinned out crowd. But even as I got there, I couldn't appreciate the art. My mind was elsewhere, contemplating books I should be reading, political projects that needed my attention. I'm reaching a point in my adventuring where I feel that I cannot dedicate as much time to it as previously. Nothing feels as important as the political, as the academic, as what makes me me.
I realize also that perhaps this is a pleasure to be had later in life, something I can when I'm aging or when I've established myself. When I feel I have time for fun.
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