My hands are cold.

Sometimes I think about going away. Just disappearing. Pay for a trainticket with cash and then go somewhere south and then just disappearing. I think I'd be good at that. Be gone for about ten years and not talking to anyone except the African tribe with whom I'm now staying, but then some National Geographic-guy would probably show up to take some pictures and write a story and just ruin it for me. I can see it happen. That's the major reason to why I haven't done it yet. That and the fact that I like this world. Mostly.