Sat outside a café in Soho, latté to my right, ashtray to my left. What has changed? I used to think London would claim my last breath, just as it gave me my first. But lately, — I dunno. Been getting wanderlust. Been thinking that perhaps I just don’t belong here. I used to have all the answers, but what’s the point if no one listens? Truth is subjective, get too close to the question and it changes. Perhaps I am experiencing a crisis of faith, which is troublesome as I built it. I know I have made sacrifices since giving up the drink, sacrifices I’m not sure many would understand, sacrifices that were necessary to bridge the gap in defences I created. I am no longer close to anyone, but it bothers me how little I actually care. I thought it would matter to me more. If I carry on down this route, badness will ensue. But I’ve always wanted to experiment... Just bumped into Kris - apparently has a photoshoot with Leo DiCaprio’s photographer next week. He won’t need me soon *sniffle* I have a new working drive in Pixel. I have a working phone line. I have a lot of work to do and tonight I have a choice. Lose myself online or lose myself in the dance. I have an urge not to go home tonight. In night time heat reminiscent of cascais I sit on the road sipping coffee and watching the world. The world doesn’t watch back. I am invisible. I slide into the background. I shall only be recognised by action alone. Alone. I choose it because it terrifies me. I want nothing again to have that power over me.