i believe i have entered my third trimester of reading The Brothers Karamazov, reading only a few pages each day on the train to and from work. sometimes the bus. and i’m not at all self conscious about it. not at all self-conscious that my default face is somber, and i wear these dorky glasses that might be cool to some people.. but i’m not at all self-conscious that i must look like some eccentric academic to the commuters around me. somber face with thick glasses buried in 750 page Russian novel that he may never finish. i don’t even think about that, not the slightest. but i do wonder if that is why nobody ever strikes up a conversation with me on the train. but then there’s another voice reminding me that most of them are wearing headphones. and probably listening to the audiobook version. that explains everything.