There’s time.

Five in the morning, again. There was a period of oh, at least five years, when every New Year’s Day found me at five in the morning sitting at a certain table in the corner of a certain bar in Tel Aviv. Two of those years I’d spent New Year’s Eve...

Argh. Crap. Happy new year?

Oh no! I mean, hey! It’s that time again! So it’s funny we were just talking about chickens (well, I was — read the last post if you don’t know what I’m talking about and hey, maybe you still won’t) because I’m kind of running...
The Fluent Self