Transit

The city was quiet and the temperature was a pleasant 32 degrees Centigrade. A breeze was rustling the leaves along the empty avenues; the light was oblique and humidity was low. A South Asian in the nevertheless airconditioned bus was humming an ostensibly nostalgic melody. A West African was reading his Bible, the question “how many loaves have you got?” underlined in fading green fluorescent marker.

Jorge once more left home for London and the Great Adventure today. Godspeed and good luck — and may I follow soon, one way or another, one place or another.

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