Flow
There is nothing quite so luscious as getting lost in the FLOW, where you forget that you haven’t washed your hair in 3 days and you have a daughter in school, who forgot her lunch money and sent you an SOS email, which you forget to check, and Facebook and Instagram is as far from your mind as the room you’re in, right now, lost in the flow.
There is nothing quite so sumptuous than to feel the tips of my fingers tapping a dance on the smooth Apple keys, notes to a melody uncoiling stories on the page, to the tunes of smooth jazz coming from afar.
There’s nothing quite so delicious as the writer’s flow.
I light a candle, defusing healing incense into the space around me, and settle with my writing. It feels like I’ve been gone forever. I’ve been busy, things needed doing. A 
On our last morning, in the lobby, checking out, a shiny new guide great Shane as ‘Mr Ambassador.’ He doesn’t like formalities much, especially being fussed over. Still, he let a porter take our big suitcase, and as we cross the gangplank I fumble in my handbag for the porter’s tip. Pausing a moment by the car door, just opened for me, I glans back at M/S Amwaj. 
He won’t come with me this afternoon and I invite my new Dutch friend, Wilma, to join me for our final daylight hours at the vast Temples of Karnak and Luxor. Wilma knows her stuff, she’s been here before, and was he still alive she would for sure have a love affair with the legendary