We've finally had a storm today. It smelled of dust and car fumes, with a note of yesterday's mowed grass and a faint shadow of sweet fragrance, possibly from the flowers behind the fence of the security-guarded block of flats. I was walking in it when I went shopping: I don't own an umbrella, and I wouldn't have used one anyway. Each drop was like an individual shock to the core.


I made turkey in tomato sauce, with generous dose of garlic and some herbs. It smells divine, but the portion is way too large. I have trouble re-learning how to cook for one.

I bought chocolatey goodness - yoghurt. It's meant to soothe bad moods and maybe a bit, heal the longing. I miss Dutch cheese and shopping at Blaak. I miss having a bike.

I miss places and people. I miss going to swim in the lake. Finally a proper summer, and here I am, stuck with books. My mother kayaks all over the place. Good for her.

I think I should have explored southern Rotterdam a little more.

I will, now, refrigerate the leftover sauce. Eat some sweets. Brush my teeth. Trappings and wrappings of regular life.

I don't want this writing to end. I miss English. Just as I missed Polish.

Did I set myself up to be torn, forever? or, in some cases, for lengthy periods of time?

If I survive this, I will be so strong. Maybe I am already.