There’s a party in the white house, opposite the bamboo forest on the corner of my favorite street.

It’s 10.30 pm. I got home an hour earlier and tomorrow I am working from 8 am to 9 pm. My place is a complete mess – bed not made, dust bunnies creeping up in corners, sink full of dirty dishes, piles of clothes thrown on chair backs, cat desperate and me dead tired. I send some messages to keep up the illusion of a social life and I just leave everything as it is, put on my running clothes and go out. I don’t have patience for warming up, so I start running. I check up on the hookers and nothing interesting is happening. I’m writing in my head as I am running, so I pay little attention to the surroundings. The guardian at the embassy of Jordan doesn’t come out of his kiosk to greet me. It’s cold. The lack of respect offends her majesty, who speeds up, perking up her butt. It’s midnight when I finish writing, so I disappear before the spell breaks.