The last couple of days I neglected my favorite restaurant in New York.
But tonight I returned to Sant Ambroeus with a friend.
One of the greeters over there is a lady from Serbia for whom I have a weak spot.
When I left New York for Iraq this lady was blonde, after I came back she transformed into a brunette.
I wonder if the blonde is a misrepresentation of the brunette or the other way around. Or maybe, and this is my favorite scenario, that what appears to be inconsistency is a flawless narrative.