Spent

It’s nine. I’m in bed. Haven’t unpacked. Ate some dim-sum.

I’m sad to be leaving the warehouse and the crew and the boulevard peripherique and the paris behind. This has been a seriously intensive time, and they’re all still in it. Work sleep work sleep work don’t sleep much

Suddenly I’m home and it’s hot but it’s familiar. I’m in my own bed here in London town. Late summer wind in the trees. I took all pressure off myself to do anything today and now I’m off to sleep early. My clock is wired to early rise now which is no bad thing, and without the necessity of things to do I’m trying it hard to stay awake.

There’s a little pocket of lovely people still working hard in gay Paree. I had to pull out. I’ll miss them. I’ll even miss the work.

To learn a city like that, in a flash, on strange roads with new people… A strange experience. A lost month or so but making space in a team that has borne fruit. I’ll be able to break it down in time, but this evening is for the crash. I’m in bed already, flask by my side, clean sheets, pajamas and a hot bath but not too hot. Washed the dust off, will sleep the work off. Hard work is good for the soul.

Being awake isn’t working. I’ll write when I wake.

Scrambled eggs with Brian and a lovely if brief moment at home. Eleven hours of sleep. I haven’t unpacked or done the washing. That’ll wait until I’m back from Brighton. I’ll be bringing my copy of Othello down there with me. A bit of headshift by the sea. Wonders. Open spaace.