Perhaps it was because I was thinking of you, freely wandering about in your city, we bumped into each other, just like that...
And it was in that bookshop.
I would've taken another route, having trodden on Tottenham Court Road in the morning already...but I didn't.
What an amazing afternoon! Sorry I wasn't there when you were down, but I admire your courage and I wish I could be like you. Stay happy and teach me how.
I liked that this person at the German embassy said to me 'how are you this morning?' That French person last year did not even cast a look at me, and that Italian two years ago told me off... It was cheerful too that this girl sitting next to me was working on a painting she carried with her. I wish, if I were an artist of some sort, that I could be so generous and let others observe me while I work.
At the hostel.
It was a different experience to me last night at the 13-bed mixed dorm: if it wasn't a scene in my nightmare, I think in the middle of the night a boy woke up or perhaps still half asleep, pissed on the sink in the dorm room, and soon after that a person woke me up again by making noises from his/her sick body. Not very exciting but to my surprise this did not annoy me too much. I just fell asleep again although they made the room smell slightly bad. Although it did cross my mind that someone might steal my iPod while I was sleeping, I did tell myself to have some trust in people, especially backpackers, just like I trusted the taxi driver who drove me all the way back from Sheffield the other night, just before dawn...
And I trusted my own sense of direction... walking from Bloomsbury to Belgravia, then back to the West End, and then King's Cross again... I must to bed now... must...