4.30 a.m. in limbo at Gatwick for several early hours. Isabelle dozes on two chairs. I find myself vulnerable to the odd negative thought or two concerning re-entry to ...what? A reality of my choice?
I remarked yesterday or was it today? before taking the flight from Canada, that my identity has been wiped clean. Like the information strip on a weekly pass for the Montreal Metro that's been left beside a powerful magnet.
I have become someone who just eats out a lot at restaurants...and doesn't drive. Now I can become someone who drives everyday and shops. At Tesco... or Asda... or Morrisons? We can all choose our own realities, you know...
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