It's cold here and when we descended on the city, everything looked like it was covered in Saran wrap - clear, but muted somehow - and it was hellish. And now I'm sitting, waiting for the next plane to purgatory, and one of those airport-friendly news shows is on the TV monitor above my head, and Suzanne Sommers - a relic from a long-gone childhood - is evangelizing about the power of positive thinking and I swear to the universe that I'm just going to curl up and die. Right here on these plasticky bench-seats. And the airport will rush onward, busy and on-schedule and commercial and uncaring.
I'm tired, and I want to sleep.
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Have you read any of Somerset Maugham? A master of the short story. Something of your style reminds.
Anyway, we should sit down and have a lit'rary discussion. At least. Over tea, perhaps?
I hope the rest of your trip isn't/wasn't too hellish. Hopefully, no worse than purgatory.
All the best,
-- Dr. Chaos