I’ve been away for four years. I’ve been gone. I haven’t lived in this world for a long time.

While I was gone, my sister became a wife and mother. Mummy became a nani and diligently knits for the nawasa—something she never had the time to do for me. Daddy’s gotten older except I think Raamis’s birth was the best thing that happened to either parent. The house became alien—‘paraya ghar’. There’s now four more babies in the family—or maybe it’s five; I’ve lost count.

Nino thinks I’ve gotten fat. I have. Not as fat as him but fat enough. Other than minor changes here and there, The School remains eternally the same. Hendy’s still busy, busy, busy. Rayer’s still not around much. The new A’Level secretary is nice enough. Ashok, Premoo, Waris, Wallace, Anthony, Dost Mohammed, Micheal Turner, Workshop-wala-John, Jason and the Pedophile Doctor’s assistant are still around—they will be for eternity. They’re getting an elevator installed—methinks Todd finally gets too old. I’ve been ordered to show up in the evening for basketball.

Traveled the city by bus the last 3 days. Reminds me of the old days. Nothing changes. Everything does.

There’s an old Dodge Ram at a workshop in Gizri. It’s in really bad shape and I don’t think the original body’s in any condition to be restored. The chassis is fine but the body’s corroded and rusting. Not for sale according to the mechanic. It’s blue, Ali.

1968 Jag. No engine. Shell’s in good condition. Needs serious work on the fenders, rear bumper and the front grill. Also requires major electronics over-hauling. For sale for 130K. I think it’s too steep. Money Green.

I want a camera and a harmonica. And a decent pair of shoes.