Five years ago, my sister offered me a green velvet covered notebook with a quote. I finally use it now to write down intricate passwords for my different websites and apps. Because that’s still the only safe way to do it. Paradoxically I’ve always known this quote to be true but it is only now that I feel I’m actually living up to it. I spent hours yesterday chatting with friends I hadn’t seen or talked to in over 20 years and they remembered me like it was yesterday. One actually didn’t and I thought that was funny because I have total recall, even of his voice and glasses and the way his hair fell on his forehead. The beautiful name of his street. He admits he might have memory problems, he probably has. I didn’t delve into that question. I don’t care he doesn’t remember me. As long as I remember myself. And I do now, I even speak my mother tongue again like i used to as a blooming teenager.

I promised myself as a child that I would never be a grown-up and always stay a child because I was very much aware of being one. And now I feel like I still am, and always will be, and that’s probably why the green velvet notebook finally makes sense. And I’m still astonished that Oscar used to be married and had children himself. Dorian has always been one of my favourite first names. Dorian, and Galahad. I always loved English first names. As a very young teenager, maybe I was still a child, I was in love with five different British boys, all with matching school uniforms. I’ve always thought uniforms were sexy. They bring out the individual, yet hide it in a sea of masculinity. Simon and Jason, they are the ones I remember best. Especially Simon. I even fell in love with a girl at ballet class who reminded me of him. Same fair skin and dark hair and dark eyes. But she spoke French. And she was short too, and delicate. And looked shy and smart and had freckles.

I don’t feel I write about paradoxes now, I just write. The paradox theme was only a pretext, or maybe my life is a huge paradox, or maybe everyone’s life is. Maybe I just write because I have done so in my head for 40 years and can finally let it all out. It’s a global pandemic, but I’ve never felt so happy and free

the golden notebook

Be yourself, everyone else is already taken

Oscar Wilde

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