Well how about that pretty little picture in the lobby of the last Bolivian restaurant I will eat in on this trip, and I promised myself I wouldn't dwell on this shit. Read back to my blog in week 4 people, if you have the patience. It's all there, black and white in size 12 Times New Roman; “don't waste that time being sad guys, we're leaving, but that's just what happens.” So where did it all change?

Well fuqking derr... it changed when it was me that was leaving Bolivia. My trip coming to an end, of course it's sadder for me now... maybe? Fhuq this I honestly have no idea how to think or feel right now, and am trying to take a step back to view this.

Normally, in a piece of writing, a convenient and persuasive way to make a point is to throw all the other obvious alternatives out on the floor before shovelling out the idea that I, the writer, had been holding on to all along. “Well of course, these other alternatives may seem fine at first glance, but lo! Consider my final, most valid point of all... HERE!” I normally fall back on that shit like a cripple's hobbledy walking stick, and it often serves pretty well as a tool for evading meaningful discourse as well... for example. “Maybe what has changed here is the people around me, or maybe my first assumptions about human feeling were flawed.. or maybe, just maybe I have learned a little on this trip, and have grown spiritually as a person and with all the knowledge”.... jesus I think I just threw up on my shoes.

can we do something about that?

No... I can't fall back on that kind of rhetorical 'coming of age' banter now because it's all so obvious and it all makes so much sense and for fuqc's sake... the whole point right now is I honestly have no idea what's going on. I have no idea how to feel about this. How am I supposed to feel about the fact that my trip, my stay, my holiday, my four months on strange, foreign shores, will come to an end in less than an already meagre-sounding 36 hours? How am I supposed to say goodbye to yet another group of people who I've shared the last few hours, or the last few months with? And in the same sentence. How am I going to work out the time in between now and when I get off that plane in Adelaide and the real world finally seems real again?

As I sit here in the purple shirt that Melanie bought me for Christmas this year, just having taken another brutally unkind trip to the toilet and listening to the spitting of Bolivian rain on the tiles outside my door, there are more questions now than there were four months ago. In my first blog all I had to write about was taking my camera out on the bike I had just bought and taking photos around the city... well what now? What have I learned?

Ohhhhh who knows... ! The last few weeks have felt like a time lapse, with nothing moving forward and the days, hours and minutes standing still. The hour of my departure doesn't seem to be getting any closer, but I know from the clock in the corner of my eye that it looms ready, just around the corner. I don't have anything left to do.

This is not my last entry. I'll let you guys know when I have the stones to make that admission on here. Also, as a sidenote; swear words are mispelled to flaunt moderators' filters... I assume that's what their objection was to my last entry... cheers guys.

Peace, Taco.