Yawn. Where am I. . . ?

All signs point to Mt. Auburn Street, where I've apparently been sitting in the high-rise, crosslegged, digging multiple sunsets from the aerie for. . . how many days?

(I. . . Me. . . Now. . . I. . . Me. . . Now. . . . )

Anyway, I'm ba-a-a-a-a-ack!

And tired. too. Paunch returning. Really, I should take up jogging again, become an aerobics champ like James Taylor wanted me to be. In the meantime, I think I'll spend this week among the humanoids of Harvard Square, describing what being a new human is all about.