Dearest

Besides dealing with deadlines after the long hiatus from any work whatsoever, sitting and waiting at the UK Visa application office has to be the most stressful part of the preparation. Knowing you're 20 people behind the first does not make it any easier at all. And having a screaming baby just two metres (or less) away is just the cherry on top. It all adds up, I suppose, but most of all it's the constant busy hum of the office, hushed instructional tones of the worker-girls in blue uniforms that unnerve me the most. Sometimes I think stress is irrational, but I'm beginning to see that few things are otherwise. I can't even read Monocle's Best Cities To Live In article anymore--all I can think of is their fucking immigration office!

all my love
8.8.08

Tags: letters to dearest