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5th May, 2014.

Harper is sleeping under laundered blankets in a bed that’s her own. Jojo’s on a bus travelling south through the night. In a room in New York City once again, I’m feeling emptied and filled with love. I miss them both, though they are always right here. The overground night train is rampant and close. Separated by glass and tomorrow I’m on it. I’m peaceful, and confused, and less lonely than I’ve felt in a long time. Waking up into the world anew. My best best best best best best friends are breaking open with love.

I wrote a poem that I will never show anyone. I wrote a song that’s private too. I don’t need to push myself onto others right now, just want to be doing what I’m doing. Just want to be private, in love with what’s bubbling up here and afterwards. The songs are coming, the music’s coming! So many on this path to inspire us. We’ve met musicians with voices of ANGELS.

Earlier this evening Harper and I went out to an old favourite restaurant in Brooklyn and ate macaroni cheese. We shone our light out onto the street shining its light back onto us. We wove our jokes over tales of the last few weeks. It’s a special and sad day – the touring is over. We’re landing, perched momentarily, and unsteady. The city is hard for us to take. Change of substance underfoot. Too much, too many, ahhhh too crazy, and so fascinating!

We smile at strangers, cause offence and confusion. Eat too much pizza, celebrate and love each other and fall silent. It’s an end an end an end an end – I feel it in my head and want to grab with clumsy fingers at all that has been mine. All that has graced me with it’s presence. What presence. But I can’t. It’s already over, and something new is arriving. Cut your clinging, lady.

Our friends disappearing, my plane journey imminent, perhaps months until we’ll see each other again. Everything up in the air. New days, new weather, old faces. I’m coming home. I’m leaving this home. I’ll be more than ok. We’ve been opened and this is a beginning.

 

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