It is the cruelest week in this season; especially, when its days last longer and its hours operate slower when it is hot and humid. The cruelest part is when the mourning dove starts singing early in the morning and it goes on till frustration deepen to nerves. Then you have to challenge with your sadness that followed by your own insanity. The season that everyone starts leaving or about to leave for a short journey or a long one, it reminds me that this is also the season of when every living thing in desert swoons south toward some dream of a Gulf and better climate (if we human beings respect and protect the environment); I guess they also test the horizon while human beings are not able to see it because of shortsightedness or may be they are not able to be so ambitious to fly that high and see the horizon. Down here is blocked by cloud, fog and bushes. To see the horizon, indeed, we need flying up there to see the better horizon. My mom (Janet) is flying tomorrow, I envy her amb...
sporadic thoughts and reflections of an anthropology phd student