15 hours in Bhurban. Weekends in Islama-Blah are decidedly boring. An invitation from your closest friend to hitch a ride to PC Bhurban to meet on Saturday evening is hard to resist. When it's been more than three years since you were able to spend any time just talking to that friend, it's an specially inviting prospect.

Crazy, drugged-out driver took me up into the hills. Cloud Shadows are beautiful.

PC Bhurban has bad service. The food is bad. There's a bitterness in the staff, like they resent your presence. The place is beautiful. Infested with humanity during a summer-vacation weekend. Beautiful nevertheless. The nights are sensational.

Sitting on a terrace, over-looking a terraced hill, watching clouds, stars and lightening, talking to a mirror. A cracked, twisted, warped mirror. Self-reflective hours.

Thank you for the invitation, darling. The money was well spent.