I live in a lazy land. Lethargy is tolerated, even encouraged. I am sinful enough to revel in this. My own lethargy is encouraged by the swarming heat. It mingles around in the morning and then engulfs you by midday. I am spent by 2o’clock. I attempt to muster enough train of thought to achieve something tangible, to plan something tangible. Nothing is tangible here, it is molten and mouldy.
My hereditory Catholicism tells me pride is a sin. This place here lacks this sin. Or maybe I have just come form sucha mound of pride that the little that emerges here seems negliglble to me.