The love of writing

In the past two weeks I have finished Sir Alex Ferguson's Autobiography as well as being on the verge of finishing Rafa Nadal's Biography.

The love of writing and reading I feel has definitely become a more integral part of my life in the past couple of months. Its the place where I can find my most peace and solitude in the midst of all that goes on around me on a daily basis. 

Just today I was stopped by a lady in gym who had promised to bring me a copy of a book she said she would bring for me a couple weeks back. She ordered me to dig around in her back to find it while she continued her exercise routine on the treadmill. The  book is about Two Port Elizabeth brothers who cycled from South Africa to London before world war 2 even started. 

I have examined the cover briefly and don't want to take to much notice of it until I have finished the book I am currently on. It looks very interesting though, and I must say I can't wait to start it.

Im in a bit of a frustrating place at the moment and I am not to sure why. I feel myself becoming less effective in my planning leading up to Cairo to Cape Town Expedition. Perhaps it is the sheer distance and difficulty of the trip that has discouraged my planning. 

I sit looking over the towns dam during this particularly chilly winters day and long for adventure beyond. The air is dirty and smoke from fires hover around the house every evening. There is something dreary and dead about a this town in the dead of the winter that leaves a sick feeling in my stomach, an emptiness, a longing for solitude on the road. I have been quenching my thirst for adventure in my books, but the books will only help me for a tiny bit longer.