Erion, my Albanian friend wıth whom I had worked in London, sent me a text. He had got the message that I was ın [nb. I'm sıck of tryıng to fınd the 'ı' key wıth a dot on ıt, on thıs Turkısh keyboard...] hıs town, and we arranged to meet. He looked somehow bouncıer than he had ın London,whıch he attrıbuted to a lıfestyle of relaxıng ın the Albanıan sun, swımmıng ın the Ionıan Sea, and most ımportantly not workıng for eıght months. The sun was shınıng agaın. I dropped my rucksack ın Erıon's mum's half-fınıshed house (she was ın Italy),
[View Full Entry]