I just spent most of the afternoon reading a girl's blog. It's the only blog I read regularly. She writes about her life: what she ate, what she did, who she met. It should be boring, but it isn't. I barely know her, but because I read her blog so often, I know so much about her.

I like visiting her blog, because I like visiting her life. It's an ordinary life, with moments of sadness and pleasure and boredom and anger. It fascinates me. 

It's eternally tragic
That that which is magic
Be killed at the end of the glorious chase.