March 10, 2016
One
thing to count on: the night you need to get to sleep fast and efficiently for
an early start will be the night of soul-searching and limitless personal scrutiny.
It is 5 in the morning in Amsterdam, and I have given up trying to sleep. My wake-up
call is in an hour. I have filled the toilet with blood a couple of times—just what
you want before getting on a plane. The past runs past, stops at the most
ruinous moments, lingers, returns when you’d though you were done. The night is
at once too slow and too swift. I
bless Sam for keeping these thoughts from my head for a number of days. I should
think of the handsome and hospitable Dutchmen and their excellent city. Maybe
that will lull me to slumber on the plane.
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