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who wants to be an american?

Caitlin picked me up at the airport Thursday night, despite my having left several messages to the effect that she shouldn’t because my flight was delayed. She showed up anyway, because no one passed on the messages. I was very happy to see her, but I thought, in my tiredness, that she must have showed up to pick up someone else. But no. Me.

I haven’t left Ravenswood except to do laundry. Yesterday Robert’s dad BBQed for us and we swam in the pool. Swimsuits, ground beef, lawn care, hair care, corn-on-the-cob: welcome back to the US, where everything seems slightly too large and too extravagant. Freeways! Salt silos! SUVs! Flats of poppies!

Despite telling R&C hours of Tales of Poland, I still feel I am not conveying the essential feeling of what it was like to spend three weeks in an environment where theater is respected. I must (verb) this. Is that what I mean? Like when something not evaporates but the reverse. A powder. In chemistry. Arrgh.

We are going to go find more food and drugs and set stuff on fire.

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