We had a Gardener in this evening, and she made a comment about my arm. I’m not that surprised. In that profession, you cannot fuss over hurting feelings. This lady must have seen thousands die, and hundreds die twice.
It’s quiet here at the moment. We get a few sleepy crew members from beaten up transport ships, who want coffee and a seat in the corner. All they bring to Buber are parsnipheads and a lack of conversation.