Monday, June 16


Being back in London after so many years felt strange at first. I had a suitcase which contained a navy blue dress, a belt with leopard print and matching pajamas, three pairs of socks and magazines I wouldn't read. London in June felt very pleasant, almost like you could blend in with the rich and famous, you could be that anonymous woman having tea on a terrace, the one that looked thin and healthy and was reading Marcus Aurelius. For some reason M., my friend in London, had invited me to Polo in the Park, an event for rich, successful businessmen and women wearing heels. That’s why I had also packed a pair of velvet stiletto’s, knowing I might not be able to walk in them, but that was a minor detail of course. In the end Polo in the Park was cancelled, I never met Prince Charles or Camilla, M. and I went to a play in Regent Park instead. As we watched the actors I suddenly realized: maybe one cannot expect to find love in London, but one can expect to find beauty, especially in June.