There is a brief moment of time between expectation and reality when anything and all things are possible.
This point often happens, for me at least, on a plane between wherever happens to be home at the time and an emergency, with gin and tonic firmly in hand.
I am, I think at last, an emergency worker. This is not a hurried process as the name may suggest. Neither in becoming an emergency worker or getting to an emergency.
This is the story of how I came to be living the unreal, real life of an humanitarian worker.
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