Egypt was a bit too long a holiday - not that I'm really complaining (perhaps I am), but spending Christmas Eve on the overnight train (14 hours) wasn't exactly my idea of fun. But it's far better than last year's, so.
I saw my first mirage at the desert, crossed it in a rollicking van which got hit by another vehicle, sat in a very unstable horse carriage which collided with some van (the poor horse keeled over and limped afterwards), accosted by scary shopkeepers, got cheated left right and centre, saw too many hieroglyphs and temples, semi-clubbed at Ministry of Sound/Red Sea, bitten by weird insects, and waded a little in the Red Sea. And no, it wasn't red, it was the most brilliant of blues.
Pictures will be up next time, or perhaps never, but does it really matter? I find myself in a bit of a queer mood, like I can't quite believe the things of the past present which took place, and future-present which are about to happen, and it's with a dusty wry smile, a twirl of a lonely hair lock when I ponder, the vicissitudes of life, and the usual swirl of burnt gray.
A new year, revolution beckons, alongside with fervent promises of positive change and incurable hope for the future. Thankful for what I have been given, a second chance of chances, in more ways than one, and many more profuse avowals are made, with the gravity that profound vertigo sometimes brings.
Here's wishing everyone Happy New Year, much love.