Home again.
After a hot bath: slow, sensual North African music; lying on the couch, reading ridiculous but fun German gay comics (my beloved Ralf König, who has published some new books since last I looked through amazon.de); a musk incense; late at night; I am unbelievably comfortable... especially after about twelve days of admitted wonders and successes, but also much dislocation. (And sleeping has been annoying all these days – allergies to the stuff they used on the sheets in Spain, and the frankly dirty dorm room in London, had me restless and itching every night... the evaporation of all that has such an impact on my ability to relax.)
Well, this is in line with that tendency to indulge myself that has appeared since I moved to northern England – and of course I would have to admit, rather Freudianly, it's not just a reaction to a cooler climate, it's also a response to a relatively empty sex life. Ah, see, Freud: you don't need sex, just have a nice bath with oils....
Really, it's something to snicker about, but smugly. All fairly ridiculous. But also great fun... here in the seclusion of the hamam (oops, I almost said: seraglio)....
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