It's weird isn't it, traveling. Dropping into someone's place and life for several days, assuming their rhythms, catching up on things large and mundane, sharing real-time quandaries, shopping so much together that we start to shop for each other, eating in sync to the point that we both migrate to the same thing on the menu. And, wham, jetting off.
Our conversations, though, continue in my head. I know I could email them, but without a steaming bowl of pho or a plate of daal between us, or the path through kensington gardens beneath us, or the two shins albums on a loop like they were at that one place, it just doesn't seem right.
What do you think about this swine flu business? Should my friend fly to Austin this week? What's going on with X, Y, and Z (with X being a person, Y being a place, and Z being a thing)? Your brother gets more and more excited about moving to Pennsylvania every day. I wish I had a big bowl of Special (U)K, chased by one of those frothy hot chocolates from around the corner. I think soy milk tastes better over there. Both real estate transactions are now ready to close. I have worn my zip-up track jacket from fat face so much that it needs to be washed, but I can't seem to take it off to wash it. I hope you and your friend W have fun this weekend.
I didn't really get jet lag, but I'm definitely having KM-lag.