Near-Spring Nights

"One is always at home in one's past . . ." 

- Vladimir Nabokov, Speak, Memory

I sat down tonight, fully prepared to work at my analysis of the thematic elements at play within Majora's Mask (with the eventual hope that this will help me understand my experience with the game, and, therefore, better know it), but then the feel of the air sundered my intentions and sent me back, briefly, to a warm summer night before the rain. It was that heavy air that attends a storm, in which one can almost feel the energy of the air, and the wetness of the clouds above. And, in that split moment of memory, I went down a very different path into the past, and have been treading it, to various degrees, for the past couple of hours. The power of memory is ineffable, and I fear I hold little sway over where my mind takes me, though I often thank it for stirring together so nicely my past and present. Now, I do so wish we had that rain . . . 

Without saying too much more, I plan on finishing and publishing my thematic analysis within the month, and I am getting excellent assistance from two of my friends, who have been pushing me to play this game for a combined many years. Well, I have played it, and now all that remains is the sense-making of it all. This is to say: expect something soon, and I hope it proves worth the wait.

From the calm before the storm, 

Talbot