Ah but thy land is beautiful
And as I pack my bags, it strikes me how funny eight years can be seen in the contents of yet-to-labeled cartons, certificates summarizing where the thousands of dollars of grad school goodness went, hundreds of photos in shoe boxes and some in three albums. (And I still don’t know why I have those particular photos neatly stuck in those albums since there is no discernible theme, time period or reason to have grouped those photos together). There you see me outside Fort Jesus when I was six, there I am next to an Irish cow (literally- no insult intended for any of the lovely Irish lasses), three of us girls, in a typical diaspora bash in a what I now know, was but a faux-risque pose as I have seen that self same pose represented in the photo album of every woman, of a certain age and temperament.. (more…)
