Day 14 - Dealer

Listening to the Cocteau Twins, a hot summer night in rural Brasil, and I’m taken back to my residence hall in university, 1995, Montreal.

I made friends with a girl in my Introduction to Political Studies class who had plenty of pot to sell. I smoked a lot by myself in my residence room, and I listened to dream pop.

I had a rainbow pipe I kept by my pillow.

Soon, other students in the building learnt I had pot and asked me if I sold it. Could I also get magic mushrooms? I could.

I never made a profit.

Day 15 - Sweaty

My back sticks to my T-shirt. My T-shirt sticks to the pillow against the wall.

Dogs bark down hill. I can’t open the window because of mosquitoes. My flask of water needs refilling.

When will I dance again to alternative 80s in a dive bar with poor lighting? When will I walk again in London’s frosty morning to the Olympic Park’s swimming pool?

When will I see you again?

Everyone said they would visit me in Brasil once I left London – but I don’t see anybody in a rush to buy a plane ticket.

I wake up everyday at 5.30am.