San Francisco
August 13, 1983: I don´t want to think about the trip over here. I don´t want to think about how tired I was for over 15 hours or how sad. All I know is that I´m back and that everything and everybody look and feel strange, as if I was dreaming it all. Mt father is frail, he is not the same person I left almost a year ago. He hugged me hard when he saw me at San Francisco International, but it wasn´t the same type of strong hug.
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