A friend sent me two pictures to mark the one-year passage of life. It’s deeply instructive, as she noted.
In 2013, I look aged and defeated in this view from Barrington. The bookshelves hold possessions remaining and the smile is forced. My face is lined, my weight was under 11 stone. I remember being torn between rebuilding or surrendering my plans for a full and happy life.
There are still bad days and long nights, hurt and sadness if I let my guard down. I credit close friends and mij w.wezen with curbing my impulses and putting my feet onto a forward path, feel well along towards a better alternative.
And hopefully never to end up as the expat at the end of the bar, the white-haired quiet one that nobody can recall when or how he arrived.