The city I live in is unlike the city you live in. In my city we don't have internet. What you read here in pixels I write with pencils, dull ones: I send the scraps to my cousin X in Vienna and she puts them onto a computer. My office is gorgeous: five or six faulty pencil-sharpeners, much wood, no internet. Also glass and concrete, and smudgy pencil-written web logs in neat piles. There's so little to do in this high place but I love to be here, watching the birds move, remembering other places. One place I remember had bookstores, many of them: a whole street of bookstores!