I sat down and wrote in my journal last night. Really wrote, not just three sentences on what I'd done that day. It felt great. It would be unimaginably good for me to do that more often, but it's hard to make the time; blissful solitude eludes me. Tonight I've got to organize my pictures. Ugh. I don't want to do it, but the X-700 produces images too beautiful to be lost in a pile of unlabeled Kodak envelopes.