There is a movement in North Africa, which is undeniably one towards freedom, but this freedom will not come cheap. So I watch every little bit of news and hope with my fingers crossed the people succeed. I'll eat a couple of dates for a little bit of luck.
Days in the Fish factory are extremely busy. I hardly get to put down my skilletting knife before another big whopper is put on the table in front of me. Then some of those whoppers are more difficult to deal with than anticipated. It's almost like I am becoming an adrenaline junky. I didn't even get a chance to make a cafetiere of coffee today. Which is probably good because sometimes I can feel my heart palpitates and I wonder if I carry on like this I'll be keeling over clutching my chest. Saying "ouch, that hurt," oh well if it's going to happen it's going to happen and there's nothing I can do about it. Except maybe try and stop eating so much Chinese food at lunch time.
There now tends to be times where I feel I have lost control of what is happening. Where the Fish Factory is becoming everything. It is becoming a ruling force, dictating what, where and when. But making my move into middle fish territory was probably the best thing I did when taking everything into consideration. It is a challenge and one I'm enjoying at the moment. It's odd though, just odd. In a couple of years I may be forced to leave the Factory, because fish will no longer be on the menu. However, just maybe, a glimmer of hope will arise on the horizon. I don't like talking about hope. Yet there very much is a small trace. The trace is a revolution. Not in Africa though, one right here on the doorstep. At that time I'll expect the ones in power will know how Qaddafi feels.
Up the revolution. Viva Che Guevara.
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