Click your heels

So I'm heading back to OZ.

I have my plane ticket, but do I have my plan?

Yes, I think I do. Coming to France and spending time here hasn't been what I had hoped and expected. But it has been what I've needed. I've rediscovered myself. It's amazing what throwing yourself in the deep end, alone, can do. You see how yourself as you are, not how other people reflect you.

I'm going to continue with my I.T. consulting business, hopefully making a bit of cash without taking up all my time. And I'm going to write novels. It's what I want to do. It excites me. It's a cliche, but it holds great appeal to me.

I'm going to try very hard to keep the walking up. I've lost a metric fuck tonne of weight here, walking 2-4 hours a day and only eating when I'm hungry. Works a charm. I may even invest in a bike. We'll see. I don't have a car anymore, for one thing!

Can I make my dreams a living? We'll see.

Time

I'm walking along. An old lady is coming the other way. She may be older than time itself. She looks like she's been walking her whole life. She has perhaps never stopped walking. She nears me. She stops walking. She gives me a blurry stare. I'm dressed all in black. It's dusk. She probably thinks I'm Death. Greeting her at last. At long last. I keep walking. I walk past her. Disinterested. She starts walking again. Disappointed.