draft of an unsent e

Le jeudi 30 octobre 2008

Perhaps the surest test of the connection I have with you is when I feel so glum and miserable I do not feel like telling anything to anybody but you.

Life here has been lovely. Perhaps too lovely. I seem to have enough of everything. I have enough love, friendship and adventure in my life. A lot of great cuisine. Sometimes though, what I don’t seem to have enough of is my own life.

I don’t do anything alone anymore. I don’t have lonely hours to waste into the night on the internet. I don’t have obsessive streaks of studying. I don’t have the privacy to write my embarrassing list of goals to achieve and stick it high on my wall.

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