A long time between blogs, an indication that life post-thesis is no less frantic and fragmented than life before. I am moved to write today after resurrecting the ancient anecdote of my encounter with a Turkish would-be rapist to tell Marcin. Having not repeated it for years, I was overcome with melancholy memories of my fearless twenties, and relief that I actually managed to survive them. My father's theory is that an understanding of consequences is a result of sophisticated biological developments which don't come about until the mid- twenties. In any case, I'm not that ferocious penis-biting creature any longer: my current profile is closer to that of a middle-aged hypochondriac. What a difference a decade can make.