I don’t like living in history, or sense that the history is being made right now.
At least, for a change, it’s happening somewhere else and not around here.
It’s only a matter of time though. Maybe that’s the reason enough to leave this city. Before it again becomes someplace where history is made.

Still, trying to make sense of it, of this crazy year.
Maybe re-reading Orhan Pamuk’s Snow would help it.
Or find his Museum of Innocence, which I’ve never read.