When you know that in a few hours you will be in a completely different place, in a different season, in a different reality, the world begins to lose some of its fixity, its inevitable quality, it begins to merge back into imagination. Even people's faces seem to lose some of their hardness and determination, to become less knowing. All of this goes on until a certain farcial element begins to appear, as if they are all poorly rehearsed actors - you feel vaguely sorry for them. And you wonder why you cannot see the world like this every day, why your imagination is so weak that it needs this most banal of catalysts - your ability to withdraw? At any rate it punctures that old bogey of the world going its merry way without you.

Note: Posting will be interrupted for next eleven days due to travel.