It's said with a heavy sigh, am I right? Can't stand them. Can't afford to live without them. Lucky for me, time ins't money in my line of work. It's just something I take more of when I travel, and not always by choice.
It's eight hours and change in Lima. 2:00 in the morning to a little past 10:00. That's plenty of time to sleep. Comfort's different than time though, and although the time's flooding like spring rivers in the air-cooled terminal, unfortunately the well of comfort for me has run nearly dry. No full buckets being heaved up here in Peru. It's understandable. It's an airport, not a day spa. And I should've fucking worn higher socks than these Nike dry-fits I have on. Stupid. My achilles were freezing through the night as I turned every hour or so on the long sets of seats. Thank god I brought a sweater. An a beanie for that matter. Still, I don't know why I brought two. Superfluously cautious packing I suppose.
Huevos y toastada pora desayuno. A Huashcu. Cafe au leché as well. I watched Arsenal win the FA (FC?) Championship at 8:00 in the morning. Was it live? I don't know. Maybe a re-run, but still the gold cup. The celebration. It's a dreary haze warm up for three weeks from now. God, I love the World Cup.
And airport bars. Hello, Tonya. Hello, hazel brown eyes.
