I made it. Eleven days & eleven nights. Silent. Wooden pillow. Chanting.
I think I joined a cult.
I won’t waste your time by writing about it here. I will personally come to everyone’s door to let you all know about it.
In other news… I immediately booked it to the beach after the retreat. And today, my camera, the most prized possession with me, died. It was actually murdered. Viciously.
It was in my hand, innocently snapping a close-up of a monkey just like it has always loved to do. This monkey’s friend, a crass fellow, bared his teeth and hissed like an exorcism patient. At first I thought he was just trying to make his friends laugh by scaring tourists. But then, with his sharp teeth angled toward my calves, he charged toward me.
I immediately saw a future of AIDS and bite scars and rabies. My body performed what was later coined ‘the spreent of eets life’ by a Romanian observer. I charged full force into the pristine sea. My body meant to stop when the water hit its knees, but the inertia of the sprint plunged it deeper until it was fully emerged, clothes, camera and all.
The jerky primate then laughed and smelled his own butt.
Now I must fill out a report with my insurance, blaming the claim on a monkey.