All things counter, original, spare and strange in Khujand, Tajikistan

Too Much To Tell

I feel like there are too many things I could write here, too many things I’d like to tell you all, but there isn’t time or space, so I’ll just give you snapshots.

The sun finally burst through the slate-gray ceiling that’s been covering Dundee for the past week.  It’s the time of year in Scotland when the afternoon greets you with a brush on your cheek, then slaps you on the back to keep you moving.  Hopefully soon I’ll get to make the trip to St. Andrews I’ve been saving for a sunny weekend.

 I’m moving out of Deuan’s flat soon.  He found someone to take the room.  This guy named Darren offered to let me live with him.  He goes to St. Pete’s too, so that will be good.  I’ll miss living at Deuan’s, even though he wasn’t there all that often.  I’ll miss his books.  He has a great book collection, the kind that is collected by people with wide interests who buy books at random when they catch their fancy.  I read a great history of the beat generation and I was hoping to move on to a novel by Camus and a collection of Kafka’s short stories, but I don’t think I’ll have time.

I’ve mostly been reading Le Morte D’Arthur.  It is absolutely fabulous.  I’ve already started writing short stories based on the beginning. 

More snapshots later, as well as some literal photos I hope.

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