Reading Joan Didion

i find myself pacing around my block holding a book called Play It As It Lays . Like most works by Joan Didion, i get absorbed in it. the weather’s been furrowing its eyebrows lately. warm temperatures came and went like a speeding car, alerting people of its presence but confusing them by its absence once it sped by; despite this, i still find myself picking up this book and reading it. is it…