not being listened to

Thought I would post a picture of me in Amed, Bali, Indonesia, during the first quarter of 2018, when I still had blue hair.

I had travelled to a cottage on the tip of the island, to stay for 4/5 nights, alone. I had gone to Bali alone, stayed a few days at the Yoga Barn in Ubud, and then taken a car to the fishing village. I had just started CrossFit, plus doing about two years of running (including half-marathons), I felt strong.

Once I got there, it was raining. And I remember the Indonesian housekeeper motorbiking me to the market for vegetables, and it was pouring down with rain. The rain soaked into my backpack and my laptop (I had put a plastic bag around my computer) and she was alarmed, but it was fine.

The other ‘gardener’ stayed in a shack in the garden. There was almost no one around but there were expats nearby in a villa, so I felt safe. I locked up myself every night. There was a pool that was just next to the ocean, and I fell asleep to the waves from the ocean every night.

Why had I gone? I had wanted to finish writing my novel. But as it turned out, I had only started it.