Dear friends,

Dear friends,

If only I could blame the dog for the lack of blog posts! Unfortunately I am not allowed to have pets in the household (somehow I ended up writing poets instead of pets – cue existential crisis).

What in fact took place is just as outrageous though. I somehow managed to lock myself out of the blog and then proceeded to do the same with the email account associated to it. To give you an idea of how things are going at the moment, I also seem to have forgotten the password that gives me access to all accounts at work.

With a bit of optimism still in me, and an extra key just in case, I might just make it to Edinburgh in one piece. First escape of the year, mid-January, of course it had to be to Scotland.

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Dear friends*,

Dear friends*,

How are you? What is new?

I come back to you with a revelation: settling down in London is not something one does (or at least it’s not something someone like me does). It has been almost two years now and I have yet to feel like I have landed. Even though I have bought and put together furniture, it’s still… fleeting. Perhaps a rug will help, I have been thinking of purchasing one ever since I moved to the place I am currently at (third move is, or has been, the charm).

London is one of the most anxious cities I have ever lived in. I am always catching my breath, running left and right for no particular reason. The city has so much to offer that I have many times caught myself negotiating guilt over not having left the house for twenty four hours.

“I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in all the skills I want. And why do I want? I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in my life. And I am horribly limited.”

Sylvia Plath says it all. There is something highly addictive about all this offer, about all this freedom to be whoever you are, whoever you want to be at any given time. It can be overwhelming, but that’s when Matt Haig comes to the rescue – I think his latest “Notes on a Nervous Planet” retaught me how to breathe. And speaking of books…

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