t has a particular smell. Dazzling strobe lights. Head splitting sirens. Everything feels larger. I'm moving a few seconds behind everything. Leaves, a hundred shades of green, with the odd maroon maple. Scarlet tulips in street side planters. Fountains and parks for weary feet. Already feeling the effect of hours walking on hard pavements. I stood clueless gazing at the lift panel keyboard.
As you would expect, given the complexity of our programs and the nature of the country, we have a gazilion moving parts in various dimensions of quicksand. Some can be solved by taking small steps through the minefields, while others need crazy thinking. Until, the landscape shifts again and everything you planned, or thought was sorted, is made irrelevant. Only being here for