I feel myself getting old here. In that timeless sort of way, where time stops, but you�re still here, doing the same things, but differently. I�ve always felt that here I guess.

I still love it somehow.

I hate writing things not knowing where to pick up; it�s been so long, which is why I never do, and only mention the immediate.

I�ve jetted off to different continents, opened my eyes to the world, chased lions and other spiritual bonding moments with giant tortoises and such. Also felt connections in places with roots that no longer exist, if only in my dad's memory. It�s been interesting. All of which I survived without my music, phone, or internet, which suddenly makes one feel very out of touch with the world and civilisation etc.

I didn�t sleep very well, I somehow managed to stay up and mull over my life and everything in it. The joys of time and space. I wrote letters I�ll never send, thought things I would change my mind about immediately once stepping onto British soil again. I never could place the connection between�place, and one�s thoughts.

Met up with a friend for a drink just now, which is always nice when it�s been a long time.

I feel annoyed with myself for being at the point of losing touch with some people. Annoyed that it has to be so difficult, which is also connected with�place.

Maybe I�m ruled by these four walls.

classic noodlanding at 11:29 p.m.

we have one chance to get everything right | if we sleep together would you be my friend forever?