Kolatenna Hermitage, Bandarawela
Fooltide greetings ('Tis the season filled with folly...'). Another Xmas, another residence. I don't seem able to spend two consecutive ones in the same place, indeed I'm lucky (I guess) to be able to be in the same country. Move thy wastes? It's all of me, why not move all of me, that gets the heave-ho from Papa Time every time the spirit (of waste) moves him, not just the wastes, excepting one adopts the perverse view (truth will out) that it's all waste, even the part that doesn't get wasted. So here I am, never made it to the Center for the Study of Peripheries, though it warn't a half-bad notion. Still, I suppose I should be glad (or is it sad? I keep forgetting) that I'm anywhere for Xmas, or at least not nowhere. Not even on the edge of it, but smack dab in the middle, rainy season just ending in time for the downpour of year's end. All of which is to say, I hope you're making it well, brother, and I'll be glad to hear about it if you want to tell.