Must cut nails. They click too much when I type. Must get a sim unlock. Must get my nose into this climate. Must find toilet trees. Must get groove. Must get back my rusty Polish phrases. Must ask for a Reklamoofka or bring my own. Must find a table and chair to write on. I have a sofa and bed and mini-man stool.
The air is dusty. There are two other natives in the three flat building. That's what we call ourselves. Natives. But we are not natives here. They are natives.
I'm back on the instant coffee looking for waking visions. I am still getting my bearings. My compass is spinning, still. I should be dancing. Was fur ein Beat hast du?