Tuesday, December 11, 2007
From The Migraine Country
An electronic postcard:
Hope you, too, were here, puking and seeing odd geometric patterns in the darkness behind your eyelids. Arrival was bumpy as usual. The morning was spent on fearing that I would die, the afternoon fearing that I would not die, after all. The food here is fast. That's about the only thing I can say about it. Sounds, smells and sights are too much to bear.
I hope to start the return trip soon, via that charming stage of living in soft clouds for an hour or two.
Yours, even in pain,