20 February 1993
32 years old
What a cry I had this morning, listening to Lucinda Williams. It was the poignancy of the music, rather than the appropriateness of the lyrics. I thought of Paul moving out and how very much I’m going to miss him. He’s always been there for me, through this last crazy year and a half. What a time it’s been for me, so much growing up, so much pain and happiness. Sharing with Paul has been like living at home. We’ve had a home together. He’s been there for me to lean on. He’s been someone to come home to, talk to, confide in, laugh with. It’s difficult to imagine another such close relationship outside of my family. I had it with Candy and Harry [in London]. I’ve been fortunate to share bits of my life with some fabulous people.
What to do now. I’m fine. I’m terrific according to my therapist [who I saw only once, by the way], but I’m sad. A very particular, a very special part of my life is ending. The grown ups are moving out and Hariklia, the eternal child, remains behind.
This picture was taken on my trip down memory lane (literally). It runs out the back of where I lived with Paul, in Prahran. It also gets a mention in my novella All Windows Open; which, fingers crossed, is published in a couple of months.