Another Brief Interlude:

I have just burnt my tongue on a steaming hot cup of tea, despite the terribly hot weather outside. We have spent the last few days sweating out of every pore in our bodies trying to stay cool, and have about three fans and air conditioning to make the heat a little more bearable.

The whole flat is noticeably trying to avoid the topic of the Northerners who have come to the end of their programme.

Were all desperately clinging to one another, trying to hold onto something that feels real. Something, so that we don't feel like the entire world is falling apart and there is nothing we can do to stop it.

I cannot speak because my mouth cannot form words. I'm torn between happiness, excitement, sadness and a deep resentment for the way that things have to turn out.

In a way I feel numb.

I feel everything.

All at once.

I'm home sick for a place that isn't quite home to anyone, but that has been a home to a lot of people before me.

I cannot sleep.

Repetitive dreams plague my thoughts.

Why won't it stop? 

Onions.