52 Weeks in An Alien Land Called Home

Wednesday 3 January 2018, 1.31am HKT

7.28pm local time, 22°C 72°F, humidity 62%, warm and muggy

diary 2017-12-31-22-55-42

HERE we are again — a year that went a little too quickly for some, a little too rocky for others.

And a little too angry for me  the reason for the threadbare state of my postings.

The last three years have been the most upsetting time of my life. I can’t really give more context — or else I’ll burst a blood vessel.



everybody believes in something 2017-12-31-23-06-11


  • Begin with the end in mind. (Proverb)

Because all good things must come to an end. Because it usually doesn’t end well either, my old son.

  • Knowing is not enough; we must apply. Willing is not enough; we must do.


  • People nowadays care more about their standard of living and have outgrown notions of ideology and freedom. Most are content to follow than lead in exchange for having the mod cons of life.


  • If you are unaware of some general truths — faulty though they are then no answer, advice or explanation will make sense to you.

At my age, I’m prepared to take a few things on faith … and calculated risk.

  • Never do anything without insurance — any kind of safety net will do.


  • Beware of those who say they have nothing specific in mind yet reject every single thing from you in a quite specific way.

It means they have specifics but not telling you. At the very least, they must have some kind of general principle in mind, or they wouldn’t have been able to look at the relevant aspects of your stuff.


  • Avoid living “in the moment.” We live for the future. Just accept the experience of the moment. Live in the moment and you’ll risk being momentary. You’ll end up directionless and clueless about many things.


  • Table manners are not there to display upbringing. Table manners help inculcate the whole organisational skill of “A place for everything and everything in its place.”

Notice that successful people invariably have good table manners from a very young age.


  • “Don’t get sore all the time to prove you’re tough.” — Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (2008)

Happiness is not a destination. It is a way of life.


  • Snitches sell information. Like snitches, people who sell information walk on the dirty side of the street.


  • Movimento es vita. (Movement is life.)

Sit still in one place — in life or in geography — and eventually you’ll end up being a piece of interior decoration, and later, dead matter.

  • You can be poor or you can be uneducated, but you cannot be both. — Grandma


  • People whose heads are either empty or full are notorious for being hard to please and harder to serve. Both types don’t know what the hell they want.

Hong Kong people are notorious for being hard to please too, by the way.


  • A lot of things in life have no literal or fathomable meaning, and it’s literally a waste of time to search for their meaning.


  • An aggressive lack of self-awareness is what you get from education. It’s not indoctrination. Most people are too unimportant for that expensive process. It’s cheaper to make them lack self-awareness by making them focus on just a few things.

Just like those who say they have their “bullshit radar ‘on’ all the time.” They end up noticing only the bullshit and usually little else. They know only one way — but don’t know what’s up and down, left and right, front and back, or top and down. The world has a few more dimensions than just 3D, however.


  • Do you feel like a living creature trapped in a zoo, with monkeys coming to piss you off and run away? If you respond to them, doesn’t that make you even more of a prisoner? Is there a way to tame them?

Something that don’t stay put even for a moment can’t really be tamed. They’re simply trapped and locked up, like in a zoo.

Ask yourself how untamed you were before you got trapped and locked up.

  • There is no “true personality.” We are shaped by circumstances.


Zurich City exhibition at our Times Square, October 2017

Jude Law

I think it was him, the British actor, who walked past me outside Sogo department store in June, with a purposeful look on his face.

Bridal gown

I saw someone in a bridal gown for the first time in my building in September. I’ve been there for nearly two decades.

Spanish pitch invasion

The place was awash with Spaniards in September–October. This might or might not have to do with Catalonia’s much-vaunted efforts to divorce from the rest of Spain around the same time.

I spy with my little eye — many of them brought their CVs, diplomas and whatnot with them, and rang up local companies about job vacancies. How often do you take your bona fides with you on holiday, eh?

Always worth a shot, mate.

Latin wave and derrieres

In November, the influx was from South America.

Funny thing, the Latin Americans were mostly from Colombia and Venezuela … and invariably blonde.

I didn’t realise just how exotic Hongkongers find Latinas. You know what I mean … never seen such big derrieres, not even on TV. How do you explain something like that, right?

  • I don’t really give two hoots what anyone thinks about Hong Kong. Even locals don’t know the place nearly as well as I do. Hong Kong is a safe haven and will continue to be one for all nationalities. Feel free to disagree, which is fine, but no need to tell me — because you won’t like it when I point out where you’re wrong.

Full Moon

You’d realised there’s a grain of truth about the Full Moon — had you been with me especially on the night of 19 December when the loons came out of the woodwork.

Just about every Full Moon has brought out some kind of weird, creepy or out-and-out insane antics in people more than the other nights — in every country I’ve been. Been tracking this stuff for DECADES with tally sheets and statistics. Conclusion? The pattern of odd behaviour starts one night before the Full Moon and ends two nights after.


Window display at a shop near me

Money, predictably

Money won’t buy you happiness, as the proverb goes, but this is an expensive city. Money is prime here even for misery.

Money isn’t important to life or happiness, but it is for the mechanics of living.

Life just isn’t possible here without the spondulix. Too many bills to be paid here.

Like, for instance, the prices keep changing literally daily at my local MX Café.

I’ve never been so skint and destitute than now.

Money has been extremely tight these past three years, with lots of lost opportunities that shouldn’t have been lost in the first place — no thanks to those who should’ve known better.

Not just in Hong Kong but worldwide, business conditions have been bad. It’s mostly because of the moronic politics literally everywhere in the world.

It’s also due to the insane personal values that most young people have been deluded into accepting from school and the media (including their brand of social media).

Meanwhile, I’ve never felt so bloody alone and isolated in my life.

Family is family, and we trust family. That received wisdom is dynamite on paper but crumbles to pieces if family members lead separate lives — more like roommates. It shouldn’t be like that if only we look a little beyond the next hill, to paraphrase the Duke of Wellington’s words.

Office Access Situation

Clearly Life has a blackout plan to have it in for me.

I cannot provide any context except dubbing it the Office Access Situation.

Daiso silicone oven glove

For the past 2½ years, I’ve literally never stopped thinking about this goddamned matter.

Thoughts about it crop up four to six times literally every day.

The Office Access Situation remains unresolved and wilfully neglected by those who started it in mid-2015. It’s very bad behaviour. Really.

It’s lost income opportunity too.

The older we get, the lost opportunity becomes more substantive and substantial.

And the impact from this one will be increasingly palpable as time goes by — more so if ever the economy takes a dive of any kind, which I think would take place in 2018.

And then everybody will regret big time for not heeding my words, thankyouverymuch.

Right wing problems

me xmas 2017-12-31-23-13-39

Fainted from my nicely painful elbow brace on Christmas Day

My right shoulder is a long-running problem.

The pain has been — still is — excruciating on a DAILY basis, but you probably couldn’t tell just looking at me.

Worse, the shoulder pain radiated to my neck and chin by June. My whole right side became stiff and immobile. I couldn’t get to sleep, and June became the No Sleep Month. I was wrecked. I couldn’t decide if the pain was spreading or intensifying.

My right elbow has been in a brace since May. The pain is just indescribable.

And my weight dropped as a result.

Ordinarily I’m 9 stone (126 lbs, 57 kg), which surprises some people for a skinny, scrawny guy like me.

In July, it took just 4 weeks to sink to a record low of 8 stone 2 (114 kg, 52 kg), which is bad news alright for anyone to lose 12 lbs (5.4 kg).

I spent three months to crank it up — but only to 8 stone 6 (118 lbs, 53.5 kg) by September.

It sank back to 8 stone 2 in November. Basically I had nothing to eat then. It’s too complicated to explain here, sorry.

I was also losing wads of hair — see disgusting picture.

Today, I’m 8½ stone (119 lbs, 54 kg) … with hair.

End of line

phone console 2017-12-16

Beautiful, just effing beautiful — no way for my old contacts to reach me now.

After 25+ years with the same home phone number, the landline got cut and gone by 16 December. I discovered this accidentally when the phone console went on the fritz.

The mobile phone isn’t a real thing. Mobile numbers aren’t really permanent. The mobile number is often no good for a lot of confirmation or registration procedures with the authorities or the utilities.

Then a week later, six different phone numbers rang my mobile phone 11 times in a row.

It now looks as if my gas line is in danger of being cut too, which means I won’t even be able to have a cup of coffee at home to save a few coins.


The Chinese don’t dress the way you think they do anymore

Hannah from Köln

“What’s the big rush?” the blonde said. “I’m on holiday. It’s one more place to visit on the way.”

HRH Princess Victoria Luise of Prussia, daughter of Kaiser Wilhelm II

A really blonde version of this

That’s why in June Hannah M. choose to stick around in town for three nights instead of pissing it on waiting 12+ hours for her connecting flight.

The 24-year-old environmental engineer from Cologne, Germany, was on her way to the sun and surf of Fiji in the South Seas.

Pic unrelated — no kidding, but the resemblance is real close.

Hannah was a really blonde version of the pictured.

Too bad I didn’t get round to taking a picture with her.

We got chatting at dinnertime at MX Cafe through one of the waitresses. We ended up chinwagging like mad for four hours but she had to get back to the hostel because of the jetlag.

Hannah was nothing like the typical German.

For starters, Hannah was probably 10 times friendlier and more engaging. Unusually too for a German in my experience, she had a broad sense of humour.

Of course, I’m a guy too — I’m not blind, you know. Hannah had textbook Germanic good looks, let’s put it that way.

I’d reckon she’s 5 foot 6 (1.68 metres). Straight hay-blonde hair in a bun. Deep sky-blue eyes — and oh yes, her eyes were up there too, thankyouverymuch.

  • Pictured:— HRH The Princess Victoria Luise of Prussia, the Princess of Hanover, the Princess of Great Britain and Ireland, daughter of Kaiser Wilhelm II and granddaughter of Queen Victoria of Britain. (Photo via Pinterest)

They had actor/actress looks

How d’you like to work in a place where you have to fly out once a month just to renew your visa to stay there?

That’s life for Constantin and Marina, two glamorous-looking Ukrainian English teachers from Shanghai with hard-to-miss actor/actress looks. I met them at the McDunno one evening in December.

The pair of them have got to fly down to Hong Kong every month for this wilfully stupid visa renewal thing that the mainland authorities foist on lots of foreigners.

Let’s not exaggerate. It isn’t like educated foreigners who are licensed professionals and landed jobs the lawful way in China are ever going to be illegal immigrants — we can reasonably assume certainly not in (of all places) China.

What it effectively comes to is giving people the runaround. It’s not good for reputation.

Do it like the rest of the civilised world — give a 90- or 120-day visa and be done with it.

(Image via c4c)

Their stories so far…

Make yourself at home,
ut the place might not let you do that

Table linen and salami trip

In July, W. went on a table-linen-and-salami holiday trip to Holland, Belgium and UK, and bought a nice piece of table llinen from the ancient city of Bruges in West Flanders. W. gifted me a lot of the salamis bought there — deeply appreciated.

And what if I am?

In July, a loonie with an unintelligible Chinese accent probed the MX Café staff whether I was a regular patron there. What are you going to do about it, mack?

Engineered retreat

I was saddened that my engineering teacher neighbour down the left hall called it quits in September and moved out of my block of flats in October or November after living 10+ years there. Reason — high cost of the district and no retirement income.

Mr Justice writes back

Very pleasant to hear from His Honour Mr Justice Walter Vannini, the Italian judge and sociology professor I wrote about in my piece “The Italian Job” (2013).

You can stick it in your relaxed dining area too

In October, I told three people in my building to get stuffed. Look, it was just a one-day water stoppage caused by some breakdown in the street water mains outside. I don’t see why THAT woman and THOSE men had to give the security chap a hard bloody time about it. Things malfunction from time to time, you know. Jeez…


By November, I haven’t sighted Ah Bak the top-floor neighbour in over a month. He’s already in his 90s and seemed a bit worse for wear the last time I spoke to him.

A nose for business

Some people have a commercial nose even at the rudimentary level.

Financial planner Joy O.Y.K. shared a table with me at the McDunno in Week 52 and casually asked where I got my pocket diary from. It’s exactly what she’d wanted.

The moment she knew I’m in the printing trade, she remarked why don’t I design my own stationery and retail them myself?

After all, lots of publishers and stationery brands have no printing assets of their own yet still do handsome business.

EXACTLY — if you have the production capability, do it for what it’s worth while you still have that capability. Maximise your existing resources first before and instead of scrambling all over the place for ‘resources.’

Like her, I never liked any of the diaries produced locally. True, it’s a Japanese diary, but it works for me — because I can’t afford a UK-style diary and French ones can’t be had.

My story

In July, I started drafting a major feature writeup on ‘sponsorettes.’

This happened after bumping into an old friend who once worked in that (ahem!) interesting line of work.

The original plan was to post it (plus two sidebars) in fourth-quarter 2017.

Never got round to finishing it because of my “Head & Shoulders Problem.”

Makes for a fascinating read though, even if I say so myself. Comes with exclusive interview material from current and former sponsorettes. Stay tuned here for it.


If I could trade in my dreams for a degree, I would’ve had a Master in Fine Arts with an art gallery in Berlin all to my own.

I’ve never had so many oddball and angry dreams than in 2017, and November was back to back with them. I must surely be in my ‘surreal’ artistic period.

In my dreams, I seem to be doing quite well for a stretch and then at the end I say the wrong cranberry, and then everything goes to pot from that point. Kind of life real life, isn’t it?

I had a pink-coloured dream.

All in pink — the surroundings, the furniture, the people (?) — you name it and it was in some shade of pink and maybe a streak of light blue here and there. I felt something actually ran down my left arm and woke with a start. (December)

I had my first-ever Presidential Dream.

While President Trump was on his official visit to China, I had the potentially defamatory dream of swatting a big black cockroach … and the image or vision of Trump flashing by. The two are not connected — god-honest truth. (November)

I had a bizarre dream of being in a bazaar full of cats. They’re all tabbies. (October)

I dreamt I was back at my old university in some sort of situation. (November)

For the first time ever I dreamt of Marco Antonio Acuña.

He was a personage from my time living in Los Angeles in the 1960s–70s. My dream of him was in the present time. He should be in his 70s by now. I hardly knew him.

Two days before my landline got cut, I dreamt a biopic about myself with S. and D.

The details are gone now, but biopics are usually done for those who are gone. Not exactly comforting that. (December)

I’ve had at least four surreal dreams about Mama.

It was surreal and angry when I killed Mama as she was turning into some kind of demon. (I know, right?)

It was exasperating over Mama’s money-handling habits involving her small pile of banknotes in a Chinese wedding-style red silk money pouch. (November)

There’s been a long, sad litany of angry dreams with Alex in them.

He was in a serious or fatal burning accident. (June)

He had a green military flick knife, then dozed off on a cart full of fresh leaves, and later he and I were having a sensible conversation — impossible in real life. (November)

The last one for the year was he and I were in a bad fight. (November)

Never mind the above. I had this worrying dream that my water supply got cut off. I interpret the water supply as my income. It was also Waxing Gibbous Moon on the night of the dream, let’s put it that way.


My local florist — “Beware of the cat appearing”

New cardboard governor

What we’ve got is like getting issued with an Elmer Fudge shotgun to shoot back at marine commandos with modern assault rifles and nightsun laser scopes coming in ‘hot’ on Air Cav helicopters.

In March, ex-civil servant Carrie Lam won the non-voting ‘elections’ for the fourth post-handover governor of Hong Kong — sorry, I mean Chief Executive of Hong Kong. She was inaugurated in July. A cardboard character if there ever was one, she turned out to be another Invisible Man — just like the CEs before her.

Yer pays yer money, yer picks yer goods.

My adorable 10-year-old, inch-high cactus
didn’t survive by December


Hong Kong is a pathetic place weatherwise.

We’ve got four seasons — two in my opinion — but we’re still in the subtropics, which means the place is slightly less unlivable than the tropics.

Summer here stretches over nine months and the ‘suffocation’ factor is pretty high —  soupy heat (30°C–35°C / 86°F–95°F) and sticky humidity (∼90%). In 2017, the typhoons and rainstorms have been almost back to back.

The humidity by April was just un(ffffing)bearable without the AC. My pretty cactus fell ill — just as W. also fell ill and was shivering all over the place. By May, the humidity turned nasty with a vengeance and we were a little drier than the sea until maybe only 6–8 weeks ago.

That aggravates everything, including the nerves.

Mould was appearing all over home, and threatened to turn sentient in some places.

I was soaking wet with sweat practically day and night. I was overheating and restive every day. Cramps occurred every night in both legs and damned well hurt too.

I’ve always hated hot weather because it has always been “hot water” for me, so you can tell I’m in the wrong bloody place.

Black udder mug

This lovely porcelain coffee mug got smashed in an accident because of my dwelling on some swellhead edgeloard’s insulting comments online. It’s in the characteristic black-and-red style of the Warring States period of ancient China 2,500 years ago.

Blocking people online

I have a bone to pick with Quora, even though it’s not directly responsible.

Quora is that Q&A site that refuses to bill itself social media while its users refuse to acknowledge it’s a Q&A site.

Ever since going oinline in the early 1980s, I’ve had a long winning streak of never needing to block people — not even temporarily.

Come Quora in mid-2014 and things went down the toilet right away and made my first-ever blocking.

Just last year alone, I’ve blocked five dozen insufferable individuals there, mostly for their bad online behaviour and condescending remarks towards me and others.

I didn’t block out-and-out trolls because it would be hundreds of blockings then.

For someone like me who never blocks, this is a sign that Quora probably isn’t running a tight enough ship.

Indeed, the site has turned into a troll’s paradise in the consensus of opinion from users and outsiders alike.

The consensus is also that its moderation team is particularly adversarial, with perverse decisions being one of the key reason for the exodus — and continual bans — of well-behaving users. I can attest to that from my own interaction with the mods.

To be frank, the mods didn’t learn how to do their jobs. As an ex-mod myself on some Usenet newsgroups, I say even the 4chan mods do a better job.

Never before have I encountered anywhere online or in real life so many overweening pseuds and edgeloards in a single place as that site.

True, I should’ve used my time there for blogging here instead, but that’s life for you.

The Boiling Saucepan Incident

art spaceman on fire 1337431549248My first-ever kitchen accident in life occurred in March.

I was cooking potatoes and the saucepan boiled dry by accident.

I was preoccupied — money matters and the wretched shoulder pain.

Due to this, I bought a cheapo Japanese-style aluminium saucepan for 12 bucks (US$1.50) from Daiso in May.

Turned out it was one of the nicest saucepans I’ve ever used.

I’ll be getting a traditional Japanese cedar wood lid for it — once it’s in stock, or when I’m less skint.

Wooden lids are better for Japanese-style utensils because they work together to reduce the chance of boil-overs. The Japanese, even in their cooking utensils, believe in cooperation.

Then I slightly scalded my left thumb a few months later using a non-Japanese pot.

(Image via c4c)

Love this bowl, HK$12 (US$1.53) from Daiso

Food bank

I deeply appreciate W. gifting me two dozen tins of gourmet seafood around Easter and again in July.

I suppose it’s W.’s way of doing Jesus’ act of feeding people with the fish and loaves.

Life is such that sometimes I ended up with no food in the fridge except for four cans of Chinese beer, which by the way are a little more flavourful than the standard American choices. So the food gifting felt like living off a food bank, to be honest.

The British, European and Korean tins were real good. I’m afraid the Russian and Latvian tins were so-so and came across tasting like USSR proletariat rations for use during socialist class struggle.

The shirt Goodlookin’ loved

My pet hamster’s favourite shirt of mine was disintegrating before my eyes because of the heat and humidity.

I cannot live without this Guess™ shirt — precisely because she once chewed a hole in it because of the pattern. Simple as that.

My pet hammie Goodlookin’ died from natural causes nine years ago (16 Oct 2008). She was aged 100 in human years.

The Evil Sandwich

Sucks balls, right?

You bet it sucks massive balls to live in Hong Kong when you’re gluten-intolerant or a coeliac sufferer.

Nearly 90% of the stuff cannot be eaten regardless of affordability. The stuff that CAN be eaten is just too damned expensive.

Gluten intolerance or the gluten-free diet aren’t fads or a fashion statement. For some of us, the problem is only too real. You spend the whole day working out what and how the next meal should be. It’s a helluva distraction for daily living.

The onset is sudden — it’s always sudden, just like the need for reading glasses. Wake up one fine day and it’s there with you. It happens to most people sooner or later.

Ever since gluten intolerance started in me around 15 years ago, I’ve done supremely well at my surrealistic frugal levels. I don’t think anyone else could match my ability.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

In May, Letty thought she’s finally becoming gluten-intolerance like me.

Her belly swelled up one day out of the blue and the aching just kept banging away. Every time she ate her normal stuff, this happened. Since then, she’s cut the wheat stuff, plus stopped taking red wine and whisky just to be on the safe side.

Told’ya this was going to happen.

I know stuff like this because I did human biology and zoology before. I read up on stuff like diabetes, gastroenterology, diet and endocrine diseases, and so on.

Welcome to the world of involuntary expensive consumption, my old son.

Here in Hong Kong, gluten-free pita bread costs an outrageous HK$80 (US$10.25) for a bag of five measly pieces — good for one meal, but at the cost of 3½ McDonald’s Happy Meals.

We can’t eat normal bread of course, but a standard white loaf costs HK$11 (US$1.15) and good for three or four meals.

We can eat potatoes, which cost around HK$9 a kilo (2½ lbs), but potato isn’t a staple here so that’s a problem.

So the non-gluten diet here becomes just meat and veggies. Those ain’t cheap here.

I’m dead interested in see how you lot will handle your newfound dietary needs as related to your money. How d’you like that now, eh?

(Image via c4c)


Found sleeping with me on my bed one day — the heck it came from?

Anniversaries and remembrances

NIGEL turned two years old in July.

Letty’s housecat Popcorn died a year ago in July from lukaemia, aged 47 in human years.

The vet said most British cats end up with lukaemia in Hong Kong — just as many British human beings do too here.

Not exactly encouraging that.

It was the 173rd anniversary of my mother’s family in Hong Kong.

On 19 August 1844, my mother’s side of the family were relocated to Hong Kong from North China, just three years after the British founded the place. Trust me, my ancestors were aghast at the relocation to a place like this. Even today, we’re still feeling aghast.

To permanently memorialise this, I migrated The Naked Listener’s Weblog to WordPress.com on the same date 2008 in the run-up to the closure of Windows Live Spaces.

My bathroom tenant, 2 mm across,
taking a breather from the heat and humdity

 Got my own back

After 20+ years without the need for one, got my first back scratcher in June, made of bamboo — precisely because of my wretched right arm problem.

The winds of change

Finally conked out in September was my electric fan of 10 years of faithfully moody service. A month later, I bought an all-metal high-speed job, which started rusting the moment it was exposed to Hong Kong’s humid air. There’s the subtropics for you.

Tone deaf now

The somewhat rude-sounding music festival “Clockenflap” happened in Week 46 (mid-November).

Back in 2011, I especially told S., D. and everyone else not to miss it when the organisers still issued free tickets for it.

Looks like everyone can forget about going anymore. It’s too costly.

Ticket prices are now something like HK$1,400 a head (US$180).

Told’ya — make hay while the sun shines.

Oi, y’there, tosh?

Some no-show rang my doorbell on 16 November. Haven’t had one of these in years.

Giant snake skeleton sculpture
at the old Daimaru store site in October 2017


In September, W.’s private phone messages got leaked in a Whatsapp group. No big deal. Don’t worry about it. We know who the ‘cutout’ was for The Cow anyway.

A bit too nice for this place

The H&M Harris tweed overcoat I tried on in December was just fantastic — but totally impractical and overkill for even the winterest of wintertime Hong Kong.

Wear one in Hong Kong, and everybody will know you have a medical condition called brain damage.

Yee-haww hurr-durr

Last week, my gen’yoo-wine ’Murican-made black cowboy boots were creaking and splitting apart from the wear and tear — kind of like me too.

I have a few more brand-new pairs from the 1970s still in their boxes. Heh.


That was the year that was.

It’s been an unhappy year. An angry year. The least productive. The most worrisome too.

Still, I got a bottle of el cheapo vino tinto and four pieces of Marks & Spencer Stilton Cheese from W. to make the whole year’s aggro more tolerable — deeply appreciated.

I started mentalising this year-end roundup around November and originally wanted to post it just before Christmas. Well, my wretched arm had an alternative opinion, so here we are.

Every Year of the Rooster (which 2017 was) has always been a bad one for me.

The next Year of the Chicken Dinner will be 12 years from now (year 2029). Wish me luck.

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© The Naked Listener’s Weblog, 31 Dec 2017. (B17179)

All images by me except otherwise indicated.

2 Responses to “52 Weeks in An Alien Land Called Home”

  1. Ed Hurst said

    Wow, a tour de force. I seem to recall some kind of curse it was to have too interesting a life, and yours is much more interesting than mine.

    Liked by 1 person

Comments are closed.

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