Day Three: I am alone. Except for the occasional sounds of friendly fire “oops, sorry” incidents, I fear the sound of silence will drive me to walk the streets in hopes of finding the elusive “happy Iraqi”. I long for room service and a triple latte (extra chocolate nibs on the whipped cream, please), and a decent Tibetan rug vendor who understands the difference between Taupe and Fawn Brown. My heart is heavy and my butt is weary. Or is it the other way around? I don’t know. Time means nothing here. And words mean even less. Except for mine. I know I am making a difference. Some of the locals are actually inviting me in to try on their family belts. Although slightly uncomfortable, the built-in clock is a definite multi-functional accessory. And it comes in Taupe. Finally, someone in Iraq ‘Gets it’. Maybe I AM making a difference.
Right on, you nailed that!