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Bonjour! Today is not about you. In fact, it’s never really been about you – your physical existence. It’s about leftover Indonesian beef rendang and strong coffee – no: it’s about what gives the meaning to my seconds, hours, and days, beyond those irresistible luxuries. I realised resisting you was futile when I knew there was so much you could offer to get me closer to truth and freedom, but I have also come to realise that there’s no use in forcing you, or anyone, into my life either. That truth, that freedom, that freedom that comes from everything that’s true and that truth that is achieved in freedom: that is the pursuit.

What’s the point of leaving London, or Wimbledon (ahem!) for that matter, because I don’t feel like I’m doing anything meaningful here if I immediately seek to settle down, in Chelsea, par exemple – sorry! Let’s try again! What’s the point of leaving London, or Wimbledon (ahem!) for that matter, because I don’t feel like I’m doing anything meaningful here if I immediately seek to settle down and to have something steady; immediately run into another prison that you, Paris, may as well be?

Today is the time to walk the talk. Today is the time to distinguish strength from qualified stubbornness (whatever that means); to draw the line between freedom and merely an escape: to know the difference between being awake and just not asleep (when in doubt, Sumatran espresso might just help!)

What’s the point of rebelling against something you deem so far away from the truth if you are just chasing the comfort at the end of the day?

I’ve been faffing about; I’ve been clinging to the soothing effect of having something at the end of this seemingly dark journey – or at least the idea of that something – and getting anxious about letting it, or causing it, slip away. I’m now ready to leave what I know doesn’t fulfil me behind, as uncomfortable as it makes me feel not knowing what I will find, or have to deal with, when I get to the other side – and I don’t mean (just) the other side of the Eurostar tunnel with my Étoile membership. I’m ready to let go. I’m letting go of control over what the outcome may be.

It takes uncertainties to reach a conviction. At least, that has been the case with mine. I am doing a massive clear out, first and foremost of my wardrobe (soon to be an ex irresponsible fashion lover here), my expectation desk and of my restriction trunk – in fact, why don’t I leave the trunk behind while I’m at it? I’m not going on a cruise anyway, though I might just live on a boat, in which case the (steamer) trunk comes with me, along with a stunning curated collection of clothes I haven’t got rid of. Here’s to not underestimate the power of the space, the creative void, between no longer and not yet!

By the way, what should I dress up as for my stubborn boyfriend’s French-theatre themed birthday and project launch party next Saturday, and what’s the weather going to be like for the next protest against the Indonesian government the day after, Paris? Because when I say ‘letting go’, I don’t mean passively waiting for my bank account to fill up and for my moving boxes to find a new address, and when I say ‘the space’ or ‘the creative void’ I don’t mean paralysis – I simply mean I choose to be free now, and I choose to be true, in everything I do, always. Vivre, triple espresso!

londres, le 14 septembre 2025

je t’embrasse!

–d.o.