I have had a stunning new realization. It’s simply this: That when I’m in New York, Albania is imaginary. And when, tomorrow, I get on those airplanes, New York will fade and become strange — just a story I tell. And for these interim days, I’m neither here nor there — existing somewhere in between. And no one spends time here with me — so I have to accept an imaginary existence.
Now to go home, with everything scintillating around me — nothing quite real, or false, either. Just possibility. The dogs are real, god bless them. Pray god one remembers to pack the right things.