Had the worst dream last night about trying to conclude a peace accord in a small Latin American republic. It was going swimmingly, and then an extremist walked in, blew the other negotiators away until he ran out of bullets, and started cracking necks. After wrapping that up he began slicing off my fingers in an effort to make me do a radio announcement handing power over to his party. And the worst part of it all was that the whole negotiating team just stared dumbly at him while he did all this; we couldn’t believe it.The dream made me want to puke. So did this.
Time for more Brontë sisters and some George Eliot, I think. Roméo Dallaire will be strictly for the subway and lunchbreaks.
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