Nathan’s rules were, ‘no orgies, no meat’. So, no cock, no comfort.
I wasn’t anxious about crashing, but about landing.
I was as nervous as a whippet. Leaving London, leaving England, filled me with fear.
I’d ask myself, How did I get here? How did this happen? then remember, and forget again, and carry on like everything was normal, which of course it was.
He’d tell me fragments about himself, but not much more. He was like a 1,000 piece jigsaw puzzle to which I’d only found the corners.
I ran to the bathroom more times than a teenage bulimic. I’m not used to all this emotion.
I have a memory of a group of us dancing on a pontoon on the lake one Friday night that I think about if ever I need to reduce my blood pressure.
“You’re in the land of Zion,” now, he shouted, “you’re in the land of the Jews!” He was obviously a lunatic, but I didn’t want to back down.
On my birthday I go to an exhibition. Its themes are: death, separation, misery, gloom. Everything but fun. Perfect!
He said he’d had a headache, and had to pack, but I knew that it was love that had made him a liar.
She said she’d visited my father’s grave and told him my news. He was, I understand, thrilled by it.
At the launderette, an elderly man took off his trousers, put them into the dryer without washing them. He sat on a chair and offered me a cigarette.
I’ve decided to stop saying goodbye, and start saying hello, instead.
It was so simple to do, I never stopped to think if I really wanted to leave London.