i finished reading an enlarged heart today. i wandered through cynthia zarin's essay collection for two weeks, savouring her warm and dreamy prose. it's extremely detailed. i liked reading about these details because i like learning about the different types of people and objects that people grow fond of throughout their lives. it was as beautiful as it was infuriating, though. i skipped three essays because i felt she wasn't moving on. even while reading the ones i enjoyed, i was constantly thinking: "what's your point?"