I don't know why I'm compelled to write now, when my room is baking (particularly near this hot laptop) and I can hardly sit up or type, but the past few days have seemed a harsh unreality and I need to confirm that fact by stating it. I want to describe what has passed, and yet words fail me as my body and mind ask for rest I cannot supply. I can only hope that the antibiotics are working and that the illness doesn't severely affect my concert in Gent.
Joris just smsed me back a second time, giving me the slightly comforting sensation that I am still connected to an outside world that is thinking of me. I have little other confirmation that something exists beyond my window or front door... perhaps if I stepped outside, I would fall into nothingness. This mobile-phone reassurance is a strange reflection on the old Samsung phone that was my sole connection to the outside world during my confinement with a broken leg. Where is that phone now? I called the number in Spain this afternoon from Go Bananas but nobody picked up.
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