Not much more

In Damascus there was a war, and the Damascus Station gave a reasonable, readable story of standard spy fare that fitted with the facts I knew, or think I know, about Syria.  Nothing more.  And the problem with a thriller is they insist on telling you everything, I would rather know nothing at all.

I guess it would be silly to write a note about not being able to make a decision without following it up with a note about how no longer know my mind.  Thing is the quickest way to find my mind is through formulating the words to describe it, but to do this I need to be surrounded by safe people whom I trust will not mock or turn away when I say, sincerely, things I realise a few minutes later I don't really feel.  I am not sure there was anyone whom I have feel that free with, except for that bottle of drink, bit now I am older the cocktails are fewer and the chances are less. Oh where is my mind.

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