I wasn’t anxious about crashing, but about landing.
I was as nervous as a whippet. Leaving London, leaving England, filled me with fear.
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.
He’d tell me fragments about himself, but not much more. He was like a 1,000 piece jigsaw puzzle to which I’d only found the corners.
I ran to the bathroom more times than a teenage bulimic. I’m not used to all this emotion.
I have a memory of a group of us dancing on a pontoon on the lake one Friday night that I think about if ever I need to reduce my blood pressure.
“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.