So, that story I was talking about…

It “begins” on a pleasant spring day in a faraway country whose name starts with A. No, not that other faraway country whose name starts with A where I’ve been spending a good bit of time in recent years. Visits to that A-country are strictly business, whereas I’m here in this A-country, on the opposite quarter of the Earth’s surface, ostensibly for pleasure.

I’m out on the balcony of a small apartment in the city that a few of us have rented for a week or so. I feel the light breeze, see the pedestrians and intermittent automobiles (it’s not a very busy street), hear snatches of conversation–but only barely, since I’m several stories up. The setting should be conducive to a state of calm and relaxation; however, I can’t easily find those feelings. I had walked onto the balcony because I didn’t know what else to do. It gave me, if not exactly a relaxing feeling, at least a helpful sense of space and relative solitude.

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