To the lake

Toni thinks I'm back in England, but I'm not. I've let her think that - told her so in emails - it felt too dangerous to tell her the truth. Maybe I'm just getting paranoid. Am I getting paranoid, dear reader? Are you still out there? Are you reading me? I need to know. Need to know i'm not going mad. I saved up coins for a few days (found some on the street too) and rang Tim, just to check that I was still alive - still real, and not dreaming all this. His voice was just the same - it was so great to hear it - he said everything back home is just as I left it. Nothings changed (except that all the cars have little England flags flying from their back windows - football or something, he said) - it was so good to hear. Good old England. Good old stupid grey dull and never changing England. God I miss it.

I've been making my way gradually north (I think) - hitching, walking, sleeping rough sometimes. The beach is a good place to sleep - I've hooked up with some good people along the way - building big fires, sharing what food we have. I'm almost out of money. I feel stripped away - the last few vestiges of my old life, my life before, my identity are all leaving me. I am lighter, thinner, freer than I've ever been in my whole life. I almost feel like I could step off the ground and fly, like a lost balloon- high high into the air - coming to land in some far off country - or maybe not coming to land at all...

I've heard there's a good place not far from here - with a big lake and trees and kind people - a place I could stay and maybe get some work - get some money - some proper food - clean clothes - a shower. I'm going to keep going till I find it - keep putting one foot in front of the other