Everything is packed and I’m looking forward to the journey ahead, which is absolutely impossible to measure. Not that is the aim, though I have no idea what to expect and I feel very privileged to be in this situation and to experience this. I was meant to fly 20min ago, though due to heavy snow, I was forced to redirect my flight via Moscow than Istanbul… a strange feeling to wait, which irrationally is annoying, though not more harm than… well, no harm at all… it only gives me more time with friends before leaving, so I take this change and interruption gratefully… and I think of how my lucky I am to afford to wait just another day and here I’m thinking of how it must be in a constant waiting – a chronic waiting – in that in-between  space that asks for no action, just patience… it must be terrifying and makes me think of Kafka’s The Trail… actions somehow, makes us reconnect to things and our surroundings and that activity extends our beings… deprived from that most feel like impotence (I’m currently reading Deleuze and his vocabulary surprises me)… so to have time to wait, to choose to wait is on one hand a privilege of the few and on the other a state of mind and practice of perception… today I must seek the opportunity to the watch the snow fall and extend my travel urges for tomorrow… write an email that was postponed and just sink into a rhythm that is unpredictable… into the path I have no clue about….