Scene of the crime.
You would think that after living overseas in a third world country I would have developed a thicker skin and to expect the unexpected, and if not that at least be comfortable doing things a bit out of the ordinary.
Evidently this isn’t the case.
We are constantly being told how we deserve to be happy.
“As long as you’re happy.”
“Make yourself happy.”
“If it makes you happy, then do it.”
“If it’s not making you happy all the time, why do it?”
Eleven. That’s how many sets of twenty four hours I’ve been back on extraordinary Washington ground since I boarded my plane leaving Cambodia, looking back over my shoulder with tears in my eyes and anxiety battering through my chest.
