the sun is slowly setting, the mosquitos are starting to bite, a leisurely saturday in Southern Africa.
The rains are refusing to come through, apart from a few drops while driving to the airport picking up our european visitors.
hours upon hours spent behind the building, shoes off, hiding from the sun, heated by the hotspot. no cables, fast speeds, millions of words entering my head, from australia to southern africa, shielded by the straw roof of the traditional insaka.

complexity increases. i look around, and see pumpkin leaves, wood and straw. i open my ears and hear the tinny sounds of Bob coming from laptop speakers which arent mine. i open my mouth and am spoken to in dutch by a dark young african man. i go to look at photos and end up perusing many people dressed in white - i dont know where and i dont know why. But i keep looking, page after endless page.


I call soko, 'do you remember me', he will take me to my home away from home, i will shower, i will consider all the work i wanted to do today which i didnt do, i will feel bad, i will rush because i am late, and i will have to switch my brain to Education. Teachers. Lesson plans. Training. Technologies. I feel the sigh rising. I want to go to bed and read, but i left inspiring books at home. I have too much work to catch up on. Or is last night's wiskey with Sir G catching up on me?
Ilan, I love you.