if . . .

… the last days at cite internationale universitaire de Paris  ... in the first floor apartment at Pavillion Victor Lyon  were bliss … the fever from the travels passed, strength slowly returned, pressures of the year evaporated and sleep returned … a peaceful dreamless sleep … the sense of disheveled and somewhat unpleasantness of June dispersed  …  morning strolls, afternoon siestas and night walks shaped the days …  … the weather was miraculous … perhaps a bit warm but the heat proved soothing … the bio-diversity of the surrounding park, the sky full of birds I could only guess as to their nature ... the gentle breeze ... were a cure for all ills … even getting caught in a sudden thunderstorm one evening proved refreshing ... the walk after the rain along a street of gardens was intoxicating ... the perfume of flowers and vegetables filled the air ... … the multitude of cultural residences never ceased to surprise with nooks of fantastical scu...

… after a delayed flight we arrived back from Casablanca late running to catch the last bus … made it … exhausted we went right to bed … well not exactly both of us …  i spent time cleaning off Ae’s table cluttered with conference material, programs, essays and various notes so we would have a place to eat in the morning ... emptied my luggage tossing most in the laundry hoping to get a start on that tomorrow ... looking at the desk I finally gave up … that required a major effort  …  Ae was sick the last two days of the FITUC Festival … she had gone to bed and stirred fitfully moaning the entire night … … eventually crawled underneath the crisp, clean white sheets aware of the beginning sore throat/fever/nasal congestion plaguing Ae was nibbling at me … dreamt … woke up at 5:44 am … the room was stifling hot … couldn’t move … every fibre of my body ached … it was as if each and every muscle had contracted … stared into the darkness terrified...