from my diary, 3 April 2013
Lemonwater and ice.
It’s difficult not to miss the strangeness of it all, really. Sometimes, I glance outside and half-expect to see the seaside. I asked my mum what her favourite things about living by the sea were. She said:
i. The way the salt sticks to my skin.
ii. The sound of foghorns at midnight.
You are death and you are dying. And no one can save you. All I can think is: I am small, I am small, I am small.