Vitesse Rapide
Like now, in 2003, I wrote with no plan and with no discipline. Another summer in Cambridge has passed. The city is unbearable on the weekends. Full of tourists spilling out of punts and queuing damply for Jack's Gelato. Stag and hen parties clogging the streets and splashing them with glitter and with vomit. No self-respecting local ventures into the city past noon. I escaped to Canada for two weeks soaking up the fresh sea air and running early morning miles on Dallas Road. I sat on patios drinking craft beer and stuffed myself full of local seafood. And now September is here again. Darker mornings, heavier clothes, and afternoon cups of thick tea. An inevitable back to school feeling that brings sharpness and focus. Sunday afternoons once again for writing. 9 March 2003 - Train from Paris (vitesse rapide) to Bordeaux I neglected this journal for several weeks because my trip started to change in Paris. I made my first international friends in Paris. The kind...
