You know how I said I wasn’t scared…

At least, I didn’t think I was. Turns out I have filled every second of the recent past so efficiently and with such vigour that I forgot to actually consider what I was doing. Or maybe I didn’t want to consider what I was doing.

Because… what am I actually doing?!

The Satnav says “let’s go”, but instead of setting off, for some reason, I’ve spent the last half hour trying to decide which filter makes me look least petrified… the problem is, they all do. Because filters aren’t for concealing deep seated fears. They might add a sepia tone or a photoshop finish, but that’s never really been what I’m after. These filters aren’t kidding anyone. Least of all me.

Somewhere in this city is Nick. And when I leave, I’m out here on my own. We’ve planned to meet across the border in Italy soon. But I’ve never done this before. I’ve never spent more than a night alone in my life. I’ve never set off alone without knowing I have somewhere to go. Here I have nowhere. And everywhere. And maybe everywhere is too big.

I’ve never set off alone without knowing I have a home. I mean, I’m home now, in my van. In a place I’d never heard of before yesterday. Parked on the side of the road in Aix-en-Provence, in a car park between 3 roundabouts, next to the slip road to the motorway that will take me away. At any given time I am minutes away from the motorway that will carry me away from the only friend I have out here. If I let it.

The only friend, the only familiarity.

And as I write that last sentence, I find familiarity elsewhere. In the grape I’ve just clumsily squirted all over my face and white top. Oh hello, clumsiness, old friend.

Seeing as you’re still here…

I don’t feel so alone.