I heard just now that a volcano had erupted in Iceland and that a cloud of ash had covered Northern Europe. I had no idea. I have no idea really of what is going on outside of a little strip of beach front called Sanur. Volcano? What volcano? Skies look pretty clear from where I am sitting.
Strange feeling, this--separated from the better part of the world by a combination of isolation, language, locale, and who knows what else.
Is it the end of the world? Am I the last to know? Or is this something that has been greatly exaggerated by my source--like the fallacious newspaper report of Mark Twain's death a-way-back-when?
My first reaction? Well just so it don't mess with my particular paradise.
Careless of me, yes? Even sociopathic?
What business has a volcano erupting anyway? What's the point? Are not the dinosaurs extinct, and long since at that? Or maybe not. Maybe not in Iceland. I really cannot say. I've not been there . . . nor do I even want to go, now.