End.

301. Provisional Eternity, by Mark Strand, in the New Yorker.

A man and a woman lay in bed. "Just one more time," said the man, "just one more time". "Why do you keep saying that?" said the woman. "Because I never want it to end," said the man. "What don't you want to end?" said the woman. "This," said the man, "this never wanting it to end."

302. Just a little more, I think to myself. Just a little more. As I run the final intended lap around Park du Cinquantenaire, Anna's voice goes in my head, "One thing I like about Forrest Gump, is what he says at one point, 'And when I got to another ocean, I figured since I'd gone this far, I might as well just turn back and keep right on going...'"

303. News from Australia.

"So I went into Uni briefly today to print out my plane tickets to Melbourne and found the entire corner near D.'s and A.'s offices underwater. Like, knee-deep underwater. Apparently the hot water system sprung a leak, and since it attempts to maintain a certain level of hot water it just kept pumping more in and leaking it out like a boiling hot hose. I called in a security guy and he was trying to turn it off but he couldn't see the tap because his glasses kept fogging over in the heat. 

Always an adventure in the OC building."

And my Brussels colleague complains that we do not have hot water on our floor.