You've been increasingly on my mind this past week and I feel recommitted to coming back to you after having a long period of doubt about that. I'm exhausted of thinking of it, but have to say how strange it seems that I wrote about extreme joy while I was there last, yet in current reflection and anticipation, anxiety is the pervasive emotion. I am drawn south still.

I sit in front of this screen. Broken heart. Working late. Science speak. Sun-struck ever-green.
I feel more alive in images. Petrol mart. Metal gate. Stinky sea. Sand-filled every-thing.

Where am I? Somewhere between here and there. Not here at all.

I'm tired.
Paper paper paper
demands and
words walls heart

They would all shake apart in your power, Peru. You aren't for paper people like me. But I would shred and set myself to the wind, and dance my way down to you. If I could.

Not now Not now
Not soon
but soon enough.