L’île

Hello from my sofa.

I am here sitting comfortably with a tea and fresh mango.

I wrote to you a letter about my traveling back to Los Angeles, but you know what? 
It was kind of bleak. So, scratch that. Let’s talk about JOY.

This morning, I woke up superiorly angry.

I was just sitting there, minding my own business, when suddenly Graham’s phone rings.

I can hear clearly in his voice that he hasn’t recognized the phone number : “Helleeeeu?” (imagine a British accent) and hear his voice changing from curious to very very warm. “Oh, hi mate!!!”

I don’t really want this newsletter to be just about the fact that we’re stuck at home and it’s funny and dramatic and what is the world going to become!

But, really. 

You’re going to think I am crazy, and I’m not saying I’m not, but my astrologer predicted all of this. No, not the pandemic because why would I ask her about the world when I could just ask her only about me, me, me? And you know what? She literally predicted MY LIFE.

Let’s leave to the side the question of whether you believe or not in astrology, because this is SO not the point of this newsletter, and I think you will enjoy the point of this newsletter when it finally reveals itself if it ever does – because basically what my astrologer predicted to mewas that my life was going to be a disaster.

Continue reading…

“We just have to be patient” my mother said.

——

The sun is shining bright on Wellington, as I am writing you from a dark corner of the house, and listening to the sound of rain with my earplugs in, absolutely insulated from the world outside. I am quite proud of myself.

Self-isolating in the midst of self-isolation has become a new art – is it the same for you?

I woke up this morning, got out of bed, made my coffee, sat in my favorite chair*.

Same as the last twenty days. Groundhog Day**.