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Miniscule World

You know, the world is small. It’s insanely small.

My back hurts, I’m tired from a day-long ride in planes (though it’s only a taste of what’s to come in a few days), and I am in Montreal. I’ve been in the city an hour and a half, and already run into someone I knew in grad school. And someone I thought was really cool and interesting, no less!

We’re going for coffee in a couple of days, before she leaves town.

Tomorrow’s the wedding of an old friend, and I’ll see another old friend. I am definitely seeing a part of my past, of an important chunk of my life, but I’m seeing it now through the eyes of someone who isn’t depressed. And it looks really different, really… interesting, if nothing else, but more like good.

I do find it funny, though, that here in Montreal, here on Rue du Parc, I am in what I am pretty sure is a Korean PC-bang.

Shrug. Off I got for a dinner—all day in a plane and they fed me only sesame crackers and apple juice, the bastards, and all I had was a bag of chips and a pound of cashews and pistachios from my mom.

A pound. Seriously. Or at least a kilo.

Aaaa! Off I go. Now. To eat.

Lebanese, by the way. Aaaaaah.


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