Now that I've made such good friends amongst the other volunteers, I am loath to leave them at the end of the day. We've known each other only a week and a half, but it's been so intense I feel I'mbeing separated from family. The Peace Corps is hard, make no mistake. I'm amazed at the things I miss, but I keep an eye to the future, to the Leslie to come. Everyday you learn something that will enable you to help another strike at the dragon and train others who, in time, will change the world.
Nothing works quite right here.
The clock on the wall has a second hand which races down one side 3 seconds at a time, and creeps and abckslides up the otherside. Most of Pamhile's relatives live on land owned by his father, now deceased. Walking at night is hairy on the street, but back in the quartiers it's like the jungle took everything back. Huge roots bisect rotting masonry slabs, stairs lead to nowhere, it's preety damn cool. I'm absolutely dogged, but I want to finish this letter with two things, only oe of which I can remember at the moment.