Shifting seasons

The air is breathing, short and sharp with the freshness of its chill. The days are starting to feel the premature cut to their lazy long glory of summertime. And I’m feeling the bite of the cold, like the affections of a lover whose touch is no longer desired, whose presence is a distraction fromContinue reading “Shifting seasons”

A wonderland of topsy turvy norms, and a warped surrealist painting

It’s stupid o’clock in the night when I start to write this post. I’m not suffering so much from jet lag, as from a kind of social adjustment problem. My bubble has burst. My seven month bubble in a tropical haven, a Wonderland beyond Alice’s wildest dreams, where we danced round bonfires to the beatContinue reading “A wonderland of topsy turvy norms, and a warped surrealist painting”