Its been a year since i left for London. I'm half conscious of that all during the day. Remembering how i waited in a empty house early in the morning, around 6 for Han and Silvia. How we got to the boat at Hoek of Holland, saw the big motorbikes going in, and the tiny motorbike besides, how we laughed at it. How we saw the movie on the boat, Sixty seconds, which was really bad. Driving to London, me getting into the Oven office. Finding out there was no bed, getting in the car, where i felt really surprised sitting on the left site in front, sitting besides someone who drove really fast through this hectic London traffic. The drink outside the pub, on a sidestreet of Brick Lane. Don't remember its name, not the Golden Heart on the corner of Commercial Street and Hanbury, not Spitz Bar. I remember the next day going out to get a bank account, how i bought way too expensive coathangers somewhere on Mile End. The vietnamese on Kingsland Road. The Thai restaurant, what was its name? Somewhere in Soho. Busabai?

I've pushed it all away since i got back. Not really missing it, happy to be back, really. I just can't believe i've really been there, it was all real. Very real. No, i don't miss it that much. Just feeling a little bit sad. It was a time of high expectations. I was just unlucky that it all went sour so quickly. Cuz i know that, if Oven was still there, if the market was still going strong, i would still be there. Right now. Today.