the accumulation of Things I Do Not Know has reached impressive proportions: i do not know the roads here, or the routes, or most destinations.

i do not know half of what people say, or how i’m to feel about it, or how to reply. i do not know how to do my job, or whether i’ll be any good, or whether i’ll find it satisfying.

i do not know what’s in most of the food i eat, how to cook over a gas tank, or recognize the things for sale at market.

i do not know when to engage strangers, or how, or whether i appear as foreigner or fool when I idle in the street. i do not know how to be funny here, or when to smile, and I can’t quite figure out the tortoise who lives in the yard.

and yesterday i realized that i Do Not Know how to tie a bathrobe. the string on the outside and the string on the inside and the loops on the seams don’t add up. it was a grand metaphor, and a grand frustration.

i’ll go for another list of Things I Still Know, and hope it turns out as long as this one. in the meantime, i’m up for guidance, and a new bathrobe.