Up at the crack of dawn to get a taxi to Heathrow. Then a flight, not too bad as I am used to super long distance, which this wasn’t really. After the flight, was met at the airport by a driver and we drove across the hot, deserty country for four hours, for I have picked a destination that is relatively remote. I like it. It feels good. I feel physically removed from people that I might want to remove myself from.
It occurs to me that that last episode of heartbreak might have been avoided or at least severely mitigated if Pedro hadn’t gone away for a whole month, leaving me vulnerable to Nosferatu”s poisoned talons. I am sure it would have been much better or even not happened at all if I had had someone to distract me. I am going to try quite hard to fall in love with young Disraeli, which is the name we’ll give to the Klaus-like political writer I’ve just met that I mentioned yesterday. He seems like a good, deserving boy and he will inoculate me in case Nosferatu attacks again.
And in the meantime, I am here. This is the view from my window. It was night time already when I checked into the hotel. I can’t wait to wake up & see the sea tomorrow. I am going to eat breakfast on my balcony, paint my toe nails and then go outside to the pool & beach and ask the Middle Eastern sun to make me strong & healthy.
Aretha Franklin: Ain’t No Way