Work is over and I am once again a drifter – except this time with some structure and scheduling to ensure that my book will get done and not run the risk of being forgotten amidst aimless ambles through wooded estates and along quiet backstreets (come spring, at least), and spontaneous creative ventures that will pull me along but never bear fruit.
I have dragged the kitchen table over to the heater, where I have set up my workstation cheek by jowl with the radiator and the coffee machine, and here I can tap away without end, overlooking the river and the woods of the east. Now I just need to stay focused.
The life of yesterday already feels distant and meaningless. This marks a new beginning. I have made new friends and taken many photographs and celebrated my birthday on a glinting rooftop, and Fleur feels much closer now.