I had hoped to have written a book by now. And be on a television interview. Be a CEO (of an unbeknown entity). And a celebrity. The wishes didn’t really add up. But it didn’t matter. They were wishes that kept future-gazing interesting and worth indulging in.
Here we are. Tired, at the end of the week. No energy to think about the future. Yet fighting anxiety about career growth. Grateful for the exhilarating moments with Kabir.
Just a pause… to recognise 16 years of Fuchsia.
It has been a long, long time. Of nurturing, believing, being hopeless, silly, broken, absent, obsessive. In fear, love, anxiety, loneliness, bravado, insecurity, excitement, secrecy, celebration.
The home that is mine, and only mine.
