I'm backing far, far up from this search. Last night it hit a level of wierdness beyond my comprehension, I mean super-uber-ultra beyond my comprehension, and that when my comprehension had already been baffled beyond its limits. I spent an hour sitting on the couch, watching the F-word shopping for a new harmonica on German websites, with my mouth hanging open, just trying to process. I haven't gone into that mode in years. In justice to myself I was really high at the time. But still. There's nothing I can do besides pick up his mail, hold everybody else's hand, and wait.
I will say this though: I've got more hope now than I've had in more than a week. In my head, the two likeliest things that could have happened to him were accident or running away, and I always dismissed running away because I couldn't imagine what he'd be running away from, and now I can.
In other news, reading Brideshead Revisited and getting an interesting sense of how the other half lived and thought. That it was didn't get obvious until Charles Ryder went back to England from France when he thought he was being morally called upon to beat up the proletariat. Smashing book so far.