I don't know how we keep meeting these people that become important to us. Will it ever stop? Are we looking for them or were they always there under a current and we just stepped in the creek at the right time.
Amy Sharp, extract from, We will meet in a flower shop or on a corner in the rain and then later I'll tell you everything.
I'm awake before anyone else, on this Saturday morning in Belgium, and I have my laptop here with me downstairs. It's resting on a tower of toilet paper, bought on special deal yesterday. I must take them upstairs but for now ... a useful laptop table.
The Tasmanian arrived last night. Jobe is a lovely bloke who visits periodically, when he's not partying his way through Europe. I've told him, more than a few times, he must put together some kind of book. He's much-loved where ever he goes and the photographs of him hanging out with happy strangers in Poland and London and every place else, make me smile.
It's too cold and the pollution hangs heavy outside otherwise I would be off and wandering this morning. Like I did early one morning, back at Cooks Beach, in New Zealand.
