The decision to start a new a blog, more self-absorbed than the last (because here, plain to see, I've employed the self-timer with great inexperience and blur) has no real explanation. It's introduction, though, cannot be more gracefully made than by Montaigne, which is what I'll leave you with.
"The Author to the Reader
Reader, thou hast here an honest book; it doth at the outset forewarn thee that, in contriving the same, I have proposed to myself no other than a domestic and private end: I have had no consideration at all either to thy service or to my glory. My powers are not capable of any such design. I have dedicated it to the particular commodity of my kinsfolk and friends, so that, having lost me (which they must do shortly), they may therein recover some traits of my conditions and humours, and by that means preserve more whole, and more life-like, the knowledge they had of me. Had my intention been to seek the world's favour, I should surely have adorned myself with borrowed beauties: I desire therein to be viewed as I appear in mine own genuine, simple,and ordinary manner, without study and artifice: for it is myself I paint. My defects are therein to be read to the life, and my imperfections and my natural form, so far as public reverence hath permitted me. If I had lived among these nations, which (they say) yet dwell under the sweet liberty of nature's primitive laws, I assure thee that I would most willingly have painted myself quite fully and quite naked. Thus, reader, myself am the matter of my book: there's no reason thou shouldst employ thy leisure about so frivolous and vain a subject. Therefore, farewell."
from Montaigne June 12, 1580
from Montaigne June 12, 1580
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