Again, again, and again I question my future. Do I really want to spend the rest of my days slaving away for someone else, working 8am to 10pm in some box with a glimmering screen, no life, no laughter, no happiness? Ok, so I could start up my own business, could work for myself, could do this, that and the other in the business world, and there is such a thing as work-life balance so what’s with the melodrama? Well, Miri’s “substitute” arrived today and she brought with her the key to my hidden dreams. The box is unlocked, the damage is done: my dreams surround me, darting here and there, teasing, tantalizing, and whispering enticements in my ear. And off I go again. I’m back to square one: in a clinch. On one hand I’m lured to the bright lights of capital cities, to the world of consumer goods, fashion, frivolity, lifestyle and design, but yet there is one side of me that keeps on wondering if I should not disappear off to the other corner of the world and try to do something useful with my life.
Anyway, my new flat mate for 3 weeks is called Vera, has learnt to be a midwife and goes off to developing countries where she teaches women how to become midwives. She’s just come back from Afghanistan. Her husband’s a photographer and they go off on projects together. Pretty admirable.