How To Live One’s Life While The World Is On Fire

I am walking on the streets of London with my mother, my sister, and her son. They are visiting for the first time since I moved here. We are bundled up in our coats. It is so cold that we just piled up wools and puffers and hats and scarfs and gloves and anything we could find.

We look terrible, but we’re happy.

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The Retreat

Peace. Calm. Stillness. Profoundness. Slimlessness. Journalingness.
Self, self, self.

Such is the gift I had gifted myself for the third week of January. I knew, for I had experienced it before, that my time in New Zealand is always as full of joy as it is full of blob (I’ll get back to that later).

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Modern Love

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The Hypocrite

You probably haven’t noticed, as I have barely noticed myself, but I’ve been going through some interesting change lately. Most of it has been unconscious and invisible.

I’ve been trying to take back my privacy.

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Ah, To Be Rich!

So rich.

It strikes me anytime I am at an airport. Serene in my immaculate sweatpants and sneakers, rolling my extraordinary collection of Rimowa suitcases, going through the gates with ease and confidence, expertly taking out my extensive family of Apple devices as I go through security, everything packed and organized and elevated: I feel so rich.

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At The Sex Club

There is this place in Paris that everyone who loves the night has heard about. It’s red, dark and it is right here, in the middle of the city, not so far from from the Place Vendôme, the Palais Royal and the Louvre. You probably walk by it each time you visit.

It’s called Les Chandelles and it’s a sex club.

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The Assistants

It would always go the same way.

There would be an interview, I’d ask questions and I’d be so friendly and they’d be so lovely and we’d say let’s try. They’d be so admiring and flattering and promising to be effective, pro-active and professional.

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