"An attack of alienation, but a gentle one that touches most people transported into a foreign place. A sense of otherness of the world, a conviction that nothing happening around takes me into account, that I am superfluous, rejected, and even ridiculous with my grotesque intention to see the old church tower.

      In a state of alienation the eyes react quickly to objects and banal events that do not exist for the practical eye. I am surprised by the colour of mailboxes, tramways, different shapes of copper doorknobs, knockers on doors, stairs always winding in a dangerous way, wooden shutters whose surface is crossed by two straight diagonal lines, a big 'X', and the four fields of the big 'X's alternatively filled with black and white, or white and red paint."

This can spell only one thing: travelling. And, yes, I love doing it on my own. I'll be busy packing tomorrow, so won't be blogging here.


Talk to you in a week or so! I'm leaving you listening to this. And this is my goodnight to you.