After nearly a year languishing in the Covidian dungeons of Fortress Massachusetts, I can finally confirm that travel does indeed broaden the mind. I know this because my mind, held captive by pandemic gaolers for so long, has certainly narrowed, as if its frontal lobes have been traveling through an interminably long tunnel; or perhaps staring into the wrong end of binoculars all this time; or just gazing endlessly at the faded, static crystals of a jammed kaleidoscope.
The dark days of winter haven't helped, either. A thick frost has frozen the once fertile fields of imagination. Brain cells seem icebound, neural pathways are blocked by snow drifts, and all synapses went into hibernation many months ago. Only an especially vivid and energetic Rite of Spring can save us now.
At least my credit card has accumulated many air miles. All those take-out dinners I ordered from down-on-their-luck restaurants have come good in that regard. I could probably fly halfway around the world on the points I've been awarded for supporting local eateries in their hours of need. So surely the Biden administration could furnish me with more stimulus money with which to spread international goodwill by traveling abroad to comfort famous chefs in foreign countries? After all, I feel someone ought to be checking on the Italian trattorias and French bistros at this time.
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