This isn't a staged picture. When Anna (the woman in charge of the center) talks, people listen.



Gala is one of the workers, she bakes great pastries!



This picture was posed. Haha.

I've had a rough couple of days here. I have been sick. My boss said that it was probably bad strawberries. She was sick too. I imagine it was the cold liver paste I ate for breakfast the other day, but no matter. I was sick. Now, these next two sentences might seem strange, but they're both true. I never have any time to myself. I'm incredibly lonely.

I was more than a little depressed the other day, what with being sick and feeling very alone. It's difficult to not be able to express - I'm an expressive person and it kills me to only communicate on a basic level. I read Dostoyevsky and Pushkin at night to combat this, but it still doesn't make me feel like I have communicated.

I'm no mother Teresa. I don't have that SupraCompassion that she exhibited. One of the patients at the Rehab center cut himself ... now 50-80% of the patients have AIDS and I don't know which ones do and which ones don't ... and I absolutely panicked. I watched him struggle to open a bandaide for 5 minutes without helping. Some days I wish I had that extreme level of compassion ... but most days it simply isn't there.

Love, Michael.