Cold lockdown night in bed with Colette. It‘s so weird that I read Claudine at School back in March or April way at the beginning of lockdown and reading the sequel now feels like picking something up from years and years ago. I don‘t understand time at all this year and I‘m starting to feel a bit yellow wallpaperish in the flat, nice and new tho it is. If I start saying there‘s a woman in the duvet pattern pls alert someone...