Dusk slowly oozes into nightfall, a breeze is timidly dissipating the day’s oppressive humid heat. Puccini’s ‘O mio babbino caro’ is blaring out of the computer’s inadequate speakers in three different versions: Kiri Te Kanawa, Monserrat Caballé and Sarah Brightman. I think I prefer the first. Oh, no, not Callas’, not now.
Knowing what to do. Finally understanding what one needs, where one belongs. How liberating and what a burden. Also, how complex to plan for the time to go by until the moment one does what one has to do comes.
Viennese Rhino, where on earth are you?