March 10, 2016
One thing to count on: the night you need to get to sleep fast and efficiently for an early start will be the night of soul-searching and limitless personal scrutiny. It is 5 in the morning in Amsterdam, and I have given up trying to sleep. My wake-up call is in an hour. I have filled the toilet with blood a couple of times—just what you want before getting on a plane. The past runs past, stops at the most ruinous moments, lingers, returns when you’d though you were done. The night is at once too slow and too swift. I bless Sam for keeping these thoughts from my head for a number of days. I should think of the handsome and hospitable Dutchmen and their excellent city. Maybe that will lull me to slumber on the plane.