I’d ask myself, How did I get here? How did this happen? then remember, and forget again, and carry on like everything was normal, which of course it was.
“You’re in the land of Zion,” now, he shouted, “you’re in the land of the Jews!” He was obviously a lunatic, but I didn’t want to back down.
I have measured out my life in expensive hotels, it seems, and I gauge my tan in types of honey. I am now millefiori, and aspire to castagna.
We may be the definition of rootless cosmopolitans, citizens of the world.