3.30am. T-shirt before bed. A quick self-portrait by photo, frozen in the heartless flash of the automatic camera. I see how long it takes me to work out how to upload a photo from camera to web diary, using this new Mac laptop that’s still very unfamilar. And I surprise myself.
Faded make-up. I quite like the end of the evening look.
A very solitary, very silent feeling. 3.45am, 34 years old. Alone in the world? No, alone in a world.
I could do anything. Or I could do nothing.
