voice.

Test, one, two, three.

This is much easier typed than said. I lost my voice after talking too much about my work. Amsterdam, Groningen, Eindhoven, you name it. So today is a reflection day. I only do test, one, two, three, every now and then. And spitting yellow phlegm out of my lung, before inhaling liquid Vicks. Staying in a borrowed bed with a stolen wi-fi connection, a thick borrowed blanket and a thick borrowed jacket. I feel like a ball. An overheated snowball. An Asian, overheated, snowball, in Europe, to be precise.

No that was a joke. I am fine, really. I only lost my voice and nothing else. At the very moment, I am keeping my ears up to see if any part of my voice is around. If I found one, I will be ready to stitch them back to my throat.