Throughout the next few days I'll transfer some of what I jotted down in Faro to Quixotica. Sadly enough, the captain's-log routine of picturing each day eventually provoked a cease-and-desist action on my part, but I have the essence imprinted in my memory like a branding iron in the hide. It's not Faro I'll miss for the next days and weeks and months; on the last night, I used every trick in the book to stay at Nina's place and avoid saying the last khoda hafez. My parting words (not counting the ones uttered mere minutes later when I hurried back for my forgotten notebook) were "Piroozi baraaye enghelabe sabz ("Victory for the Green Revolution") and I indeed hope for it. What it would be to contribute to a milestone like that. Beats the hell out of the blah of everyday life, which, however you spin it, is generally mundane. Your hectic life on three majors means nothing if you end up leaving no mark on the world around you. Howgh!
Here we go, without further ado, it is absolutely essential that we hand the mic over to this past half of February.
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