Monday, April 02, 2018

I met up with P.C. and he wanted to see a Peter Sellers movie. I texted Sara to tell her I’d gone out with him. We were joined by G.C. and an academic friend of his. The theater was tiny, and it was unclear whether we’d find seats.

Later I was in a remote village in a dangerous, war-torn country, maybe Afghanistan. I observed the peoples’ rituals. They gathered in the square whenever important announcements or decisions had to be made. I came with them, sitting on the periphery. A cook, an expat from Europe somewhere, smoked a hand-rolled cigarette, and I was surprised that doing so was not a hanging offense.