Boustrophedon is a style of writing where alternate lines are written in opposite directions, such as one line from left to right and the next from right to left. The term comes from Ancient Greek, meaning "turning like oxen in plowing".
non ce la faccio a fare un esempio da cervellone, fallo tu fdp pigrone!
To remove material that is considered offensive or objectionable from (a book, for example); expurgate.
if this blog were bowderlized, very little would remain.
door to door
shiny spices kumily to home james
27 hours of non stop erotic cabs/planes/wheeeelchairs/shuttle buses/varied document displaying/electronic device/related paraphenalia hurried unpacking/packing
(including bonus interminable hours of waaaiting)
and endless appreciative politeness and small talk
kicking off with 8am (ist) non uber pick up from shiny spices by prabhin
a lazy four hours of single lane mountain detours and spiky cake fillers
arriving at sweaty kochi airport
common or garden variety beaurocratic nonsense followed
with obligatory unpacking/packing of electronic and associated thangs
with plenty of waaaiting
before a short hop to my third home
bengaluru airport
ferrying about until a shuttle bus to terminator wot?
and immigration and unpacking/repacking electro blah
and hours more waaaiting
before big plane time
and an unusual (and no doubt travel induced emotion feeling of patriotism at the sight of a red tail with a white roo insignia)
11+ hours of extreme backannalian discomfort and angst ridden attempts to use seatback audio/visual nonsense
so many good things on offer
only to be stymied by absurd touch screen anomalies
restricting the seemingly bountiful entertainment to digital cursed fuckery
'at least they have good euro films!'
offered a flash of hope
alas
horrible audio scenario meant beloved language movies couldnt be properly heard
and we dont do english subs with our beloveds
as it sucks all the joy and cheapens years of swottage
and no noise cancelling means few preloaded podcasts are much chop
but hey!
free wifi in cattle class is a miniscule source of joy
occasional seconds/minutes of nod respite make an important difference
with repeated map watching
willing the hours to pass
ups! there goes jassy!
pow! there goes mirna!
this torment finally ends
arriving in the patria
BUT
just like in the bad old daze
this epic involved a stop off in syderly
still full of wankers
(but always a watery spectacle from the skies)
more immigration/documentary nonsense
and the obligatory unpacking/repacking of electro funkers
only lead to more waaaiting
so close, but so very very far away
another shuttle bus
more small talk and waaaiting
before the shortest of hops to thorn olde town
more ableist shenanigans ensued
but the finish line was in sight
one last stagger
and more tech nonsense
to find my sri lankan tamil saviour
a non substantial jump with a couple of pre planned pit stops
it was all over
and micio suspicion aside
i could relaxxxxxxx
and let this drivel flow...
after a week and a half of temperatures around 39 degrees
I took a two step leap
ixg was a delightful surprise
hadn't been able to prenotate the various machines
so was expecting the now painfully habitual display of professional disinterest and not-my-problem blank faces
but vijith and co were amazing
and massively appreciated as I was teetering
after a brief scrunch in the back corner of prop-up
blr was familiarly strange
but cool, modern and airy and provided avocado CLUB action
spilt drinks tentacles reached out in several directions
felt odd and sad that I was once again so close
but so distant from the ji locus
time was successfully wasted
until it was time to cok it
and the embrace of wet, wet, (wet) air
with a delightful few degrees shaved off
and the chance to relaaaax by the c side
