The Man of Dust
Yesterday was cold. Winds at 34km an hour (21 mph). Dry. So very incredibly bone dry. Wind burn. Devoid of moisture. I am drinking electrolyte solution and bathing in aloe. My lips are like dead meaty worms. Half of the the bottom one fell off during the night and was staring at me from my pillow when i awoke at 7:30 this morn. Skin cracking. This flat is just bone dry, even without the electric heat. Yet Don's room is moldy round the windows. At least my room is dry.
Much work. HalleluJAH!
No time to do anything during the week. Start work at 8:30 most morns, finish at 20:30 or 21:30 most eves. But that's fine by me. I teach therefore i am (or more accurately therefore i eat).
I am looking forward to my annual visit to the East Coast. It has been too long.
But my eyes remain
Hovering, witnessing
Cold as a ghost... watching the streets
Sheltering in doorways of
Venice, Vienna, Budapest, Krakow and Amsterdam
I have become the invisible Man
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