I'm typing this through a cloud of jetlag and confusion. It's so very strange to be a foreigner, but the strangeness eases me. I feel at home in airports, food courts, empty malls; there I have no responsibility other than to wait, to walk to the right gate, to board the right plane and sit in place, to eat. The ubiquitous novelty of foreignness feels easy. I have no responsibility but to look, to take in, to move.
More later. In the meantime, check out the photos.
2 comments:
Hello there!
I'm glad to see that you landed safely and that you have found food.
I'm sorry to have missed you in Chicago -- my brother's stupid phone apparently doesn't receive voicemail messages. Who knew? I tried.
Take care.
Hi Brendan!
Are you having fun?
Hope all is well.
How can I write you?
I'll give your info to Stephanie also. Please le me know. Here's my email: er-a@juno.com
Love you, Erica (your cousin)
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