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Full Circle

I’m home now. Been back since about 9AM. Passport Control and Customs didn’t pay me a second glance, and my backpack came through unscathed, so there’s not much of note to mention there.

My hand written journal ends on the note of American whores, and so it seems I’ve come full circle: disillusionment, escape, and now back to the realities of America.

I’ve shaved, showered, tackled the 967 emails in my inbox, and napped. Strange to be back in my own bed. Strange to be wearing cotton again. Strange, I think, to not be in Thailand.

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