Five years after first setting foot in the UK I've finally made it to Scotland, Edinburgh, and the Festival! Or Festivals, as it happens to be; the city is absolutely lousy with them. I've gotten about quite a bit since getting in on Tuesday night, and spent a good deal of time bumming around the Book Festival with my author badge strategically obscured feeling a right impostor. Hopefully, the event on Friday will do something about that.
At 3.30 on Friday afternoon I get to sit down with Michael Russell to read from our respective books and chat about whatever the chair and the audience thinks pertinent; at 5.30 I have the honour of being allowed to read the work of Ibrahim Qashoush as part of the Amnesty International Imprisoned Writers Series. And some time this week I might get to slow down and react to finally seeing Edinburgh for the first time - I've been traveling for three weeks now without interruption, and I'm not entirely sure that my brain cells haven't been left behind somewhere.
