Day NinetyThree

St.ill

and I'm still enjoying my time and space.

The soup was great

and I'm recovering.

I wouldn't have enjoyed any company

at this moment.

I occasionally turn my 3G on

and join in on the Hummozapiens

group chat.

Then I turn them off.

I half wish we had wifi

and half don't care we  don't.

I keep warm and hydrated

and do all the potion tricks

like, ginger citrus & spices tea,

Cypriot honey

onions in the socks at night

and loads of fluids.

The girls are arriving tomorrow.

I can't not talk to them.

In face I want to

 talk to them.

Day NinetyTwo

Smooth landing

as my bro humbly picks me up from the airport

and takes me to the house.

As Alex would say

beit msh beit;

a house is not a home

so I desperately 

try to keep 

the Lebanese energy

alive in me.

The transition is smooth.

I wake up alone

in the company of my ill self.

And I prefer not having a voice

than having one and using it 

unwisely.

I contact nobody.

I haven't seen my dad and my mum doesn't know

I have arrived.

My day goes smoothly

with not much energy to do anything other

than

just exist.

My favourite.

And I have found myself at peace on similar days

like this one,

where the strengths of the self

are limited to 

taking care of just the self.

An ill day

of self care.

I make soup.

Day Twenty

Being ill sucks man.

Can't swallow properly, can't think properly,

can't act.