Fairies Messing With the Climate

Gotta get away from these fairy lights and glitter still strung up along the road here well over a mile. Put some distance between at the very least. The cabin up in the Montenegrin hills allures more and more, something like Heidegger in the Schwartzwald. Hiking in this case into the interior, across the border to Herzegovina, ferries to Italy, Albania and Greece. The train to Istanbul.... Well, perhaps the Muslim New Year of 1440 justified, though with the endless round here it was difficult not to feel the political strategy while the corporate wheels ground unchallenged ever onward. Many from the neighbourhood had not made a re-appearance since the new month had dawned, leaving the place with the kind of post-Chrissie vacancy that descended down in the South. Inevitably one fretted over some of the elderly, especially with the ghostly absence/presence of Muttalib at our usual perch. The new gal in the house too immediately adjacent annoyed with her need for lighting through the night. Early thirties IT unsurprising to be afeared of the dark perhaps. Lass slept with her bedroom lit all night, cuddling a favourite bear fair chance. (Despite all, soft toys, balloons, plastics and screens pacify a large proportion of the children here.) Nice lass with a free laugh, a little boyish and square. We joust for only the dining-room light immediately outside our doors being left on. To date the girl has been re-emerging after 11PM following her housemate’s brushing of his fangs in order to add the laundry bulb. An aged bladder being what it is, that particular light is extinguished 3 - 4AM; dinning conceded. In childhood Mummy and Daddy likely left hers on overnight to settle the child, if worse was not at play in the personal history. Indo-Chin from Jakarta, raising a brow at news of a stay in Tanah Abang — Land of Brothers, where the minorities were only evident in the great mall on the other side of the Ciliwung River. Interestingly, there was an Indian family at breakfast one morning at Kalisma, the mother and daughter waiting at the table for the husband to return with a chit from reception confirming their status as guests for the kitchen. A first at Kalisma; and certainly never Chinese encountered there.