It’s been a day, but I got to speak to you three times already so my soul feels about as fluffy as you’d expect. Even if I rolled over first thing and tried to find you.
Aside from the stuff I can’t talk about, today’s been good. I got showered after we spoke and walked down to the office – I love the pyramid, with Leon Trotsky next door too. I was the first one there, startling Victor, the security guard. It made for an awkward conversation, as we stared at each other in hopeless silence then started to laugh.
On the walk I was taking in the street, the gorgeous houses, bright colours daubed in gang graffiti, windows barred. Poking my nose at the life around the street stalls. This place is amazing, vibrant. Dirty. Free. The people are happy, strolling, chatting. There’s a good vibe you wouldn’t believe existed if you read the news.
On the last block or so I looked right, don’t know why, and there was this courtyard, all decked out with brightly coloured banners. Sometimes beauty just hits you, you know, not something anyone else might feel the same about but it’s there, real. Perfect.
A few doors down is the witch shop, I’ll be popping in tomorrow for my new year necessities.
I’m sat in a Chinese now, fabulous place, table for one. I wish you were here, but not like in the postcards.
I love you.