• Right now, I'm just a seething mass of wants. It's like standing with the fridge door open, wanting to eat something, just hoping that something will catch your eye and inspire you. I'm standing at the fridge to my life and I want. I'm not sure what I want out of life, but I know I want it to be exciting and interesting, full of people and places and wonderful things to see and do and be, and to write about in a diary which someone will perhaps one day read, like Anais Nin's. She lived her life in cities full of life and excitement, and wherever she went, she attracted people like writers and artists and filmmakers.

    What do I want? I want to live far away, someplace exotic and mysterious. I want to live my life in rooms full of light and music and books, I want to live my life in riverside cafes and grand buildings. I want to stay up late and name the stars, I want to watch the oyster-coloured dawn creep over the sky, then wander through the silent city where mist still clings to the stone buildings before going to breakfast with people as mysterious and beautiful as the eastern sky. People like Anais Nin wrote about in her journals.