Again

I escaped to Home City for three days, fleeing the malaise and asphyxiation resulting from spending more than a month in the Outpost non-stop (this time it was two and a half).

It was a memorable and enjoyable three days. As ever: I was out of the Outpost coma and alive once more, blood could be felt flowing in my veins, I walked and talked and oh so much more. A wonderful thing also happened to me: for too many months I have hardly been able to read. After a brief tour of Home City’s bookshops, I picked up Paul Auster’s Invisible. I read it in a matter of hours, finishing it on the plane back to the Outpost. Just when I was feeling I was getting prematurely senile.

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