Little Chiffon came over for treats, and she was so wonderfully sweet. She hopped in my lap like it was last year and made herself comfortable as she coiled up. After a while she wanted to explore the apartment and she found Jessica absolutely fascinating. I couldn’t blame her, she did present an interesting spectacle, sprawled out on the couch, snoring so loudly that it was occasionally unsettling. Little Chiffon jumped on the couch and then jumped onto Jessica and then did her best to apparently wake my sister up. Jessica didn’t move or acknowledge Little Chiffon, who was not at all amused by this lack of attention. She decided she had better things to do than waste her time being ignored, so she headed out the door.
I was immediately obsessed and spent the rest of the day in a delirium. I too want to be a monk, alone, quiet, doing nothing but building coffins. I dream of becoming a hay farmer in Romania, doing the backbreaking work and worrying only about hay, thinking only of hay. And I would be ecstatic to be an outcast on a deserted island, foraging for food, building shelters out of palm fronds and bamboo poles. It would all suit me down to the ground.
Cairo was not one of my favorite places. I can’t even pretend that it was. I found the place chaotic and fascinating, but when I was there for a week, I failed to develop any irrational passion for the city. Luxor and Paris and Turin and Mexico City and Los Angeles, well, those were all different. I immediately loved them, oftentimes for no reason, often for the way they made me feel. Cairo made me feel vulnerable and foolish at first. I didn’t understand the city, and I can’t claim that I do now.
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