un-scratched

but beneath it all there's an itch that never gets scratched. sometimes it feels useless to even start something that you know you won't finish. it's in every aspect of my life at this moment - living on the fly. not being able to properly respond to letters, to follow up with different projects/plans, not actually having human relations with anyone except a handful of egyptologists and one particular human being who is like a dream to me, moving in and out of what is real/ sometimes very dear to me, sometimes a total stranger. i am grateful for that. it's nice - this drifting, you just have to accept that it always comes with that feeling of something missing underneath it all. and don't fall victim to drink. once you've had one or two it will make the missing part swell until you can't keep it down anymore and it will start to seem like the only thing. i am not missing anyone in particular or any one place. i have been adrift it seems, for the last several years. a real live tumble-weed. there is also the knowledge that it will get scratched later down the line - that itch. that for now, vacations on the red sea with my unexpected interlocutor is enough to get me through the month. that bike rides through the town are enough to get me through the week. that an evening on the roof is enough to just push me through into the next day.

but reading this, dear reader, i realize that i have given you all the wrong impression. don't get me wrong, as far as my life is concerned, i've got 95% of the itches covered over here. life has always been for me a battle with the notion of "the grass is always greener" but never have i been so satisfied with where i am. i don't want to be anywhere else at this moment. i merely wanted to express the underlying sublime feeling that comes with this life. i like it very much. me myself and i.