The weather is pleasant: first sunny and breezy, now overcast and slightly windy. Finishing Ishiguro (read it! read it!), I chose to play Bach's Cello suites and stood behind the study window watching the birds flying low and sitting on aerials and water tanks, while the leaves negotiated the wind. I silently gazed at the sheer dreamlike quality of the afternoon outside, the light oblique and discrete. The dreamlike sense was maybe enhanced by the switch last night to daylight saving time: we are all jet lagged, we travelled one hour ahead without moving, without going anywhere.
Music started. Jod asked what it was. "It feels like Brugge.", she said. Spot on, as ever. Last night we saw Columbia University on TV, some straight-to-video film playing silently while we were studying. "We must get out of here", we almost simultaneously said. And we haven't even been to New York, yet. Similar reactions were elicited by reading the papers today, some lucky illustrious 24-year old Compatrido working in Amsterdam, enjoying it immensely.
Jorge so seriously thinks we are in a nasty mood, he even rang us long distance today — and he would not hang up, either. The comfort of friends.