L’île

And just like that, my life in London is over. It was a short story, one I really tried to make work, but maybe it was just as they say—London, you’re fantastic. But our timing wasn’t right. 

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Hello from Scotland, where it’s warm and the sun is shining… 

Ah, kidding. The wind is blowing, the rain is blasting, the ocean is raging. I am having my coffee, and looking at me are three placid sheep pressed together in the hard weather.

As I was crawling through my Month Of Pain And Misery (Gosh. G, you’ve suffered, we GET IT!) on vacation in Corsica where I grew up, some interesting things were happening in the foreground of my life. I thought I would present you with a very random list of short summer stories. In other words… beach read!

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Where’s My Hot Girl Summer?

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Sometimes I just feel exhausted. There are all the things I do, all the things I want to do, all the people I’d like to meet, all the people I need to call. The daily chores, the monthly plans, the yearly resolutions, the life goals.

I see people who do so much, they do, do, do, they achieve, achieve, achieve.

This is a very pastel story with, as a background, the blue skies of Venice Beach and the waves of Malibu, crashing gracefully in the distance. This is a story with washed jeans, faded turquoise cotton tee-shirts and rose-coloured sunsets. This is a juicy fruit with a bitter core.

This is the story of my friend and of a man, who, thankfully, got away. 
 

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It happened to me exactly 20 days ago. I turned 48. Trust me, I can’t believe it either. Here are some facts about it. Should you ever turn 48? I’ll let you be the judge.
 

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