Dear Ian,

Undeniably strange, hearing your voice
and knowing you're a stone-skip away
in KL. Getting here is nothing from there.
I hope you make it. I've been baking
bread. That's my religious life now. The smallest
of creative acts repeated daily. Antibiotic
for the soul. I'm teaching the boys.
They bellow oui chef! when I sling them
across the kitchen for milk. Of course
they bellow everything in the good natured
brutal way of much loved boys. Oscar
will tell anyone his dad is crazy. It's my
theory that the world's carved up between
gross millionaires and needlepoint
collectivists. How'm I supposed to
believe that? he says. Look around I
tell him. But forget analysis. The trick is living
a free life amidst all this and baking your
own bread is just the start. Resistance Oscar,
it's what I keep telling him. Don't buy their bread.

I doubt he's listening but surely something's
sinking in?

Get here, ok?

Ben