Jig--itty-jig

The plane leaves in three hours. Neither of us have slept, unless you count dear Olga's present nap in the bathroom, which I don't. I can't imagine it would be very restful.

To Lawrence! Masha's place and the Free State brewery. Friends, family, and the studied attention of a landscape whose love was so hard won.

I'll be in touch. But now we have to figure out how to pack this olive oil.