Dear Diary,
August creeps so gently in, I almost missed the line it has crossed.
Thus begins the belief in the seven-year itch, in con-artist's use of magic to influence, in winning wars, in healing holidays, and cherishing the support garnered.
The seven-year itch? Aye, simply a repetition of uncertainties and unpleasantries, like a test waiting for me to pass. It was almost deja vu.
Con artists? Aye, that too. So now its material loss and a trade at stake. Oh well, lose them I shall, but they will someday burn at my own stakes. Sweet things are worth waiting for.
Wars to be won? Mais oui. If I do not, there would be the tattoo of darkness against otherwise unblemished realms. The verdict was a shock, it still stuns me, it all feels so surreal. Sometimes I feel like I'm preparing for a funereal event. So, I have to win this war, by all means. This is indeed a test, a time in which my mind has to work hard, and fast. I am so proud of some of the things I have thought of I am certain there’s a genius in me – just wish I’d worked it harder months back.
Healing holidays on a hiatus basis? I suppose they could help- last week it was a city reachable by coach buses. Food, caves, food, and shopping, and my best friend in le monde. Next week, the destination would be a city reachable by flight, vineyards, chocolates, animals with pockets below the bosom, and a new good friend's hospitality. Frivolous? Mais non, its a remedy.
I am thankful for the support of those who know the truth and believe only the truth. Speculations and rumors have flown, but only those who deserve the truth were accorded such. Its in times like this I see clearly who're the keepers and who're those to be shown the doors.
August, tres exciting. Its the most memorable thus far. Still, I shall let the rest of this peculiar year slowly unfold ...
Bask in my love in the meantime, sweethearts. Au revoir.
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