and then the thing about fevers is that they drain you, of all energy, so that you lie in bed spasming interally, and the physical manifestations just toss and turn your body so that the water in the bed shifts to accomodate you, and then a new spot on the bed is too cold, and you sigh at the thought of having to warm yet another place. more importantly though, this time the fever was a post-ceedence of coming back from Home, so that as my body and brain are occupied with this strange internal trembling the limbs have picked up [like a new hobby, albeit a disasterous one], there is no time when I can grieve for leaving my heart's Home.
My heart's Home, where children play and cows' bells clang, where swaydee [which is "beautiful" in thai] sleeps in the sun and lahu songs are strummed over the air. Where I look out over fields and fields, and mountain ranges. Where robert teaches the Bible every morning, and dara wields her sweet influence over the home.
Yet there is something to be said for returning to singapore, I suppose. Not least because I know there are people here who love and miss me, and wonderfully, take the time to tell me so. If only I could import all of you with me to thailand, to chiang mai, to fang, to den luang village, to the Christian Home of Love. Then all would be quite perfect, and I would have found my utopia.
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