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July 24, 2009
Jet lagged and disoriented, I stumbled up and out of the house and into the sun, in search of soup. All the way to town. Ice cold tea, hot soup and hot pita, cold salad and a bubbling blue fountain right outside the window.

Watching some street kids gathered in the plaza. Dirty clothes, dirty hair, dirty skate boards. All in black. Smoking cigarettes under the drug store awning. Defying the sun.

Vinaigrette and feta cheese, and salted cucumber, crunching fresh between my teeth. Red tomatoes and black olives. Chicken soup with orzo. Turbinado sugar. 

Is this really my reality?