O sweet Georgia sun!
26/03/08 10:00
I got up
this morning with a strange feeling that something
was not quite right. After spending a week in the
South, I knew that I must finally had gotten the
blues, and that I must had gotten them pretty bad. My
skin felt all puffed and sore, and my throat was
crying out for water. When I turned around to see
what bed could possibly have treated me to such a
poor night's sleep, I was met by a godawful sight -
my skin had come clean off my face to form a complete
replica of it right there on the pillow!
I guess this is the kind of stuff miracle hunters pay thousands of dollars to see, yet to me the only miraculous thing about it was that I still knew how to breathe. My forehead stung like hell, and to every smile there was a grimace of pain. I tried to recall exactly what scenario might have produced such a crippling effect on my skin. I went through the moves of the past few days, and kept coming back to that fated morning outside Jittery Joe's Coffee Shop in Athens. The sun had been low in the sky, and the parasol had cast its shadow across the chairs at the other side of the table. Thinking back, I do in fact remember a pricklish sensation on the left side of my neck and face. Tellingly, I also remember a cooling breeze, and a whole lot of good cheer. A mind over body experience, I guess you might say.
Seven hours and 300 miles later, I am finally out of the scorching Georgia sun. A crate of Nestlé® Pure Life® water has rehydrated my body, and my skin is beginning to take on the nostalgic color of Danish bacon. Luckily, we have just decided to spend tomorrow at the pink and peachy Best Western Hotel we checked into this night. We have a literary portrait to write, a portico to sip sweet tea under, and a pool to cool our aching bodies in. Though Florida is nicknamed the Sunshine State, I swear by the bright light that burns above that I will creep by the walls, and keep my head in the shade. Tomorrow, that's really all that matters.
I guess this is the kind of stuff miracle hunters pay thousands of dollars to see, yet to me the only miraculous thing about it was that I still knew how to breathe. My forehead stung like hell, and to every smile there was a grimace of pain. I tried to recall exactly what scenario might have produced such a crippling effect on my skin. I went through the moves of the past few days, and kept coming back to that fated morning outside Jittery Joe's Coffee Shop in Athens. The sun had been low in the sky, and the parasol had cast its shadow across the chairs at the other side of the table. Thinking back, I do in fact remember a pricklish sensation on the left side of my neck and face. Tellingly, I also remember a cooling breeze, and a whole lot of good cheer. A mind over body experience, I guess you might say.
Seven hours and 300 miles later, I am finally out of the scorching Georgia sun. A crate of Nestlé® Pure Life® water has rehydrated my body, and my skin is beginning to take on the nostalgic color of Danish bacon. Luckily, we have just decided to spend tomorrow at the pink and peachy Best Western Hotel we checked into this night. We have a literary portrait to write, a portico to sip sweet tea under, and a pool to cool our aching bodies in. Though Florida is nicknamed the Sunshine State, I swear by the bright light that burns above that I will creep by the walls, and keep my head in the shade. Tomorrow, that's really all that matters.
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