Back Home to Lalaland
I returned from Rio with love ache, the kisses will become soon sweet memories.
The streets in the cidade marvelhosa were rivers with cars stranded on their banks. Delays, the pain of trying to sleep during interrupted 18 hours of flights, jammed in-flight movies, the claustrophobia of the air plane meals, holding patterns. And even here the skies cry, el niño has become such a cliché. Catastrophic synchronicities accompanied my trip, me watching them, leaving me feeling tired, numb, and incapable of adapting to this radical shift of environments.
I am back home. I will face the reality of Lalaland tomorrow, after a much needed night of sleep.