Last night I dreamt a long time about Ukraine. The people were rather more Northern Scandanavian and all spoke very good English. Their sense of personal space was much closer than mine and I was uncomfortable with their proximity and shoving about. I was at a church of some kind, after riding on a bus with a Chinese family that spoke no English, and it was a holiday. A handsome, red-haired lad tried to get friendly with me. He told me my hair looked like a copper scrubby thing and meant it as a compliment. Hawk was tied up outside, so I didn't stay long in the church, but long enough to listen to the service. While I'd been on the bus, the vista had been one more suited to Nepal than Ukraine, with soaring mountains and brown-skinned people wearing hand-woven garb. (the Nepal bit maybe came from an NPR segment yesterday about a new internet cafe at Mt. Everest base camp). There was a man on the bus of the previous description and he was trying to figure out what language I spoke and where I came from. He asked me in French, Spanish, German then English if I spoke each of those languages.

It's getting very close, soon all of this life in Boulder will seem a distant and surreal dream.

Off for Hawk and my daily sanity-preserving run.

love,
wlu