I love being introduced to drinks that shouldn’t work but do. Dancing in someone’s bedroom-disco, to dirty Italian pop. Watching strangers fall asleep on each other on the night bus, and wake-up, Britishly. The satisfaction of navigating myself home through unknown suburbs in the early morning. Wearing knee-socks and sneakers and a tattered tutu and spiky rings for Sunday morning brunch. Sitting in silk pajamas, surrounded by pillows, in a big white bed.
I’m so so alone, and sometimes that just makes me feel lucky.