No one’s shooting us down at random in this town right now. Of more immediate concern in real life: a white dog (pit-bull) neither bred nor raised for cuddling, on the loose. Makes for nervousness while walking around with my own dog and my phone at the ready. Hopefully, he’ll get picked up today.
Also annoying: getting buttonholed on my way back from market by someone in a frenzy over The Thirty Thousand about to engulf us in their rabid hatred of all we hold dear. Why Thirty Thousand, I don’t know and didn’t care to discuss. Told the man I didn’t share his opinion. Told him again until this angered him enough to make him say: “I don’t want to talk to you.” Hurray hurray, he wasn’t about to listen to me anyway.
The next person to pass me was a man about my age, initially from Algeria who wanted to know why the other man was so disrespectful with me. His take on The Thirty Thousand was different of course. They’re rushing toward us for protection, he said. Which was a nicer thought and more congruent with my personal views but 1) not necessarily true in all cases and 2) impossible to share with panicky ones.
Panic being one of those hot-wired items control fiends love to trigger in others. Ergo, the balancing act gets ramped up several notches.
Meanwhile, in the safety of my own living space, it’s revision time with the story broken down into four segments. Sounding the first at the moment, word by word by word.
Plus, grabbing photos of things I like. Part of the balancing act.
Voilà for now. Monday, eight am local time.