Fever dreams

This is the first blog post i’ve composed entirely on my iPod Touch. It’s infuriating, but what kind of masochist would I be if I didn’t try – plus I have all the time in the world. Ever since Sighisoara, Romania (and I’m aware that I’m very behind on this blog, like two countries behind) I’ve been fighting a cold that started in my throat and has moved slowly into my brain. Last night I kept dreaming I was fighting the Turks, endlessly at war and sleeping in the filth of bloody decay. Whenever I killed someone, their ghost would follow me, but the only part of them I could see was their teeth, their gleaming, perfect teeth. (I just started a Neil Gaiman book that is contributing to my nightmare arsenal. . .)

Ellie is taking care of me and my watermelon-sized head. I’ve sent her off to explore Thessaloniki without me so that I might continue my crusade against the Turks in peace.

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