Life is a series of tunnels. I don’t think it’s about the light at the end of one tunnel per se, I reckon we all swim through a number of interlocked tunnel-ways with intermittent breaks of light along the way.
New York City is basically a fire-y comet that has a few of my tunnels on flaming at the moment.
The result of this remains to be a bit of, “Ummm… for real?”
Yesterday my contract for my new gig arrived. I rolled my eyes over page after page partially wishing someone from the US was here with me to jump for joy and partially dreading reaching the page about vacation.
The US is renowned for working people like slaves with a two-weeks of vacation policy which has been very easy for
me to become un-used to over the past nine years. So you can imagine my joy and astonishment when I reached the contract clause about: “25 days of leave per year”.
The latest contribution to my state of dreaming has resulted in a Saturday drift of laundry, packing, and head shaking. Two weeks from today, I’ll be in New York City – for some time to come.