Return of the Smuggler

[avrelia]

I am back here. I still live by some other time, and woke up at 6 – which is unnatural for me, but lucky, otherwise I would be woken up by the vigorous digging works in the street an hour later. I am not yet connected to life around here, I look with the horror at my flist thinking “Who are those people, and why are they writing all this?” I put my stuff to its places, sadly noting all things I’ve brought across the globe for no good reason and all things I needed but haven’t brought. I think I need one more coffee.

The visit was wonderful, and I definitely tell you all the fun stuff, and show the pictures – whether you want it or not. But right now I feel floating over reality, not connected to anything other then chocolate candies.

I smuggled some food to Canada. I hope they don’t mind – we are going to eat all the good stuff by ourselves and will not endanger either public health or Canadian economy. Their loss, anyway – the sausages are delicious. The flights were fine. The plane on my way back was half empty – first I cheered, then I remembered that statistics tells that planes that crushed are going half empty, then I figured I could do nothing about it, cheered up again and settled with (relative) comfort on two seats. The plane didn’t crush. I was slightly worried about all questionable stuff I was taking with me (food), but I wisely let my mom pack my bags, so I could honestly say that I had no idea about their content. In reality when I was asked if I have anything to eat with me, I honestly told about chocolate and went away.

And now for your entertainment – two pictures.