12 hours ago I was having a mind-blowing Burrata-black truffle-roasted almond combo with a glass of fruity white in London, I’m now high on coffee in an industrial concrete building surrounded by beards, topknots and red fisherman beanies, actors and art directors in New York. Suddenly I can’t even remember what jetlag even means as Cyndi Lauper is screaming Girls Just Wanna Have Fun on my youtube feed. When did hopping over to another continent become an absolutely normal thing to do on a Wednesday afternoon?
Hello America, nice to see you again. When I last saw you I had my heart filled up with love, a man holding my hand and I was picturing how we will conquer you in the future. One and a half years later all the random decisions I made lead me back to New York. This time on my own with an emptier heart, but a right peace of mind. No one understands my accent still and I clearly don’t understand American English either [aye-ther]. It is so unreal to be here that it can’t get any more real. Taking a 7-hour flight felt like the most normal thing I could do after a stressful day at work. What’s happening?
Tipsy of a glass of passion fruit gin in East London I had a chat with a beautiful stranger the other day discussing what life was all about. I really don’t know the answer. What I know though is that losing my Mum thought me the most important lesson I could have ever learnt: this whole thing will end one day. Broken hearts heal and we fall in love again, people come and go, they love us for a night or for a lifetime, they disappoint us and we disappoint others, but this never-ending hunt for happiness should always be our engine. It’s the excitement of all the tomorrows, the curiosity a new person brings out of you, those killer butterflies in your tummy leading you to God-knows-where tomorrow. In the end what’s the point of playing with fire if it doesn’t burn at least a little?
New York, please be nice to me.