Sometimes on my drive to work the haze of smog that hangs over the city looks like a bad omen, and the pools of stagnant water by leaky pipes seem like a symbol.

You have to watch out for landscape that way. When I went home last summer to get married, the islands in the river were overwhelming in their beauty. I just kept staring around me. I couldn’t focus. When you live in Tashkent, you get out of practice at dealing with natural beauty.

I was in the airport in Khojand, rural Tajikistan and waiting for the man who collects luggage to come and collect my already-checked-in luggage and thinking, where did I go wrong in my life to end up here? I asked my colleague standing next to me. I am hoping he thought it was a joke.

I was sitting in an apartment in Tashkent, watching a dear friend feed her baby, thinking, what did I do right in my life to deserve this?

I went to a club lasted night, listened to jazz. I don’t like jazz, but I always feel like I should.

The weather is nice right now. When I let the dog out first thing in the morning, she refuses to come back in. Instead, she lounges on her pillows like a princess.

It is possible that I read too much. Also, I read too fast.

For some reason, the cup of tea I am drinking tastes a little like blood. Not enough to make me stop drinking it.

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USAID is one of many donors for the project I work for. The views expressed herein are the author’s own views and do not necessarily reflect those of the author’s employer or especially those of the United States Agency for International Development or the United States Government. And I mean it. I probably give the US government heart attacks.