Inside my tummy I can feel the old people with the long skirts going up and down all morning. My tummy is expanding on the rhythm of quinoa and I realise I have to stop accusing people for the way the pronounce their lives. Olives, sweet potatoes and some left-over humous.

My teeth have fallen today and there is no excuse not to visit the doctor. He will say all ses fine, but I know that my teeth have fallen today. I can feel the gaps on my gums, swollen and distracted. Swaying from side to side looking for my teeth that have fallen today. 

take me out from this black hole - its edges suspended from the ceiling. I have no teeth, only a canine that has to do all the job - chewing and crashing the stones and the grass. My mouth is distorted and the rest of my head disappears into the abyss. Two strings are holding my ears in place and my unknown back is hurting.

Four bullets and you have to push. I have not felt this way in ages. So shit and going down. Like there is a big massive unchewed lunch in my tummy and I have to carry it from here to the library and back home. I want it to go away. Or to remember to chew next time. I'm made of glass and my fingers are melting. I cannot type, I cannot sit down. I can only feel the hole in my tummy, the weight of the hole. and press my arm inside it to see if it hurts more.

A small eel lives at the back of my tongue. I pull it out and it has the face of a baby pig. My neighbour is taking drugs and all of my furs are stolen. We want to do a photography shoot, but someone is sawing wood.

I am done. Done done. I could not find my pencil case, but I am done. Almost unpacked and thinking of puppy. My breath does not come from my lungs, it is mostly developed through the outside layer of my skin - I have forgotten how to breathe deeply. Here, there is not deep breath, not allowed, no such thing, just keep going with shallow ones, for as long as you can. But in an exciting way of course, I feel I am suffocating. New things, new all, new everything. Almost like a dream, I do not recognise my life. And when I do, it is already so far away, I have to say goodbye. That is ok. I can look from afar and wave. I will fold the boxes carefully into the green bag and knock on your door. I will make rare steak and avocado salad and chat about nothing. You know, that man in the tent with the mosquitoes that wanted to have sex with you. And I will wake up not knowing what to do again and wondering where I am going. In a straight line, I guess, like you said.

I met my old ex boyfriend with diabetes, he was still smoking, still nice to talk to him. Then I was punished for some sort of crime, I had to stand all day not sit with my neck inside an iron thing with a chain. 

So I fucked the taxi driver who looked like an old Matt le Blanc. I was in an island, my sister was busy. We ended up in a university accommodation eating strawberries. He suffered from a rare condition of hunching. As we were fucking, he got older and older and at the end he looked like my grandfather. My sister was looking for me, preparing a workshop on group dynamics. Good, because I didn't like the sex that much.

I feel now nearer and nearer my place, where I belong. Stupid reasons really. Stockings worn with high heel sandals, five-year old child marvelling at a foreign language, someone taking a nap in the tube. I'm here, now. I won't read 'how to stand out', fuck it. I'll just stand. In the middle of everything. 

Go to the kitchen, lazy. All the answers are there, waiting for you.

My very first meal in London consisted of a half-cooked noodle-soup poorly soaked into a half-bottle of semi-hot water in my tiny kitchen in Mile End. Once again, my very first meal, for the second time round, 11 years later, cabbage out of a plastic cup in my little kitchen in Hackney. So delighted to be back. 

I'm back in the gloom of the summer, you are not here to hold my hand and my tummy hurts. These people in the plane were nice: he was kissing her hand until his breath was finished until he suffocated himself. Can we convince you to come face for graduation? NO!!! 

So rude. I have been so rude, I know. But then I cried. So much and with everyone. Rembering stuff. And I tried to figure them out. One of them said: I tried to piss you off and you kept going. And I said: I was trying to figure you out. And now I know: what you wanted was just to play. 

My dad is on his way and I can't wait to tell him about my discovery: what she wanted was just to play. He will be proud of me, like he always has. 

I will get up, make my first coffee of the winter and get ready for the cold. I'm at home here. But I can still be sad at home. Back to old habits, movies and coffee in bed, watering the plants just before they die.

I have people coming today. I will buy flowers and decorate the house. And a cake on a cake stand. I may even get some cherries on top. I'm thinking of you, puppy.