Talked with Ramie. It’s all set. Europe. It’s all set. God, I’m bloody tired and excited. Spain, France, Amsterdam, maybe even Morocco. They said all they need is 2,000 words a week. Can do that standing on my head. But what if I can’t. Shit Livy just go. I’m looking at the ticket on the chair. Heathrow, then Dover and the crossing to Calais, Paris. I won’t go into London, I’ll just bypass it and head for the cliffs, White Cliffs of Dover. Sounds more romantic from here than it ever did when I was in England. I’m becoming like an American anglophile, in love with the romance of it as if I’m not a part of it, like the distance makes it somehow more attractive. Oh the White Cliffs of Dover and the Channel. Clean slates right Trudy. New stuff. Trudy how long’s it been now, a year and a half? I’ll do it for the both of us cuz I know it’s something you would’ve wanted too. And maybe someday Ceylon or Sri Lanka. World’s changed a bit Trudy. At least it’s changed in what I know of it. Ceylon, Sri Lanka used to seem like a place covered with nothing but sweet tea and people in cozy shackish homes who loved what they did and loved their families and loved the work they did. You know how we used to go on. It’s nicer to think of them that way even if our own country and the way things are has screwed up their lives. I’d like to think that those people are ok with what they have. Politics and all you know. But Spain, France and maybe Morocco, clean slates.
I’ve got to be the luckiest girl in the world, she thought.