Another day begins. Today is the fourth time I wake up here, away from home. (Home, what a strange word!) I have to tell myself this: that the experiences yesterday and the day before were stages of a process, like climbing a hill. Reaching the summit is what justifies the pain of labouring retroactively. What makes life difficult at the moment - oh, to think that I had illusions of simply meeting my prince - is that I don't know what the summit represents or that I will even reach it. But then... isn't that life in a nutshell! It is, isn't it?

I think back of my new life. To think that I left home only four days ago, that five days ago I went to work! Since then I travelled here, threw away the key to my old life (my clothed life), was a total slave to an absurdly detailed timetable, was taken advantage of by a number of uninvited men, and myself visited this other woman just like me. My head spins. What have those experiences brought me? And where will they bring me? Once again, I have to trust his mysterious ways. I simply have to.

My current life is like taking a drug. I am aware of this and the dangers it involves. Still, as I wait for 8 o'clock to come, I yearn for another dose. I have to face it: I am a junkie. Normal life is alien to me. I could never fit in. Imagine getting up in the morning, getting dressed (getting dressed!), driving to work, hello, how are you, I am fine...

My curtainless room with the morning sun, the wide landscape, too big to take in, like a panorama postcard. I am hooked. An island in the ocean is what I am, in the great wide open, far away from any continent, from society. The visit to my island by pirates the day before yesterday, my own visit to another island inhabited by a woman like me .. they do not essentially touch me, such is the level of my contentment.

Him of the mysterious ways, whatever I rationally make of him, the thought of him does not make me glad. I am inclined to suppressing all thoughts of him who brought me here. I get up and press my body against the glass wall. Once again, the dull sensations in my nipples are amplified until they hurt. I only let go until I cannot stand it any longer.

Then the clock hits 8 and I go to the phone and dial the number. I am stunned as I find his number engaged. Have I dialled the wrong number? Re-dialling gives no joy. During the next half-hour I sit on the stool next to the telephone and continually dial his number. In vain. I am lost and shaken. Cast off the island by an earthquake.

I scream my heart out as I run outside and immerse myself in the cool water of the lake. I swim around until I am exhausted. On dry land, I stumble to the porch where I fall down and lie down flat on my back. The sun re-instils me with warmth. On the verge of a lethargic sleep, I finger myself, stroke my smooth warming body, stimulate my nipples and forget myself ... I come, with a primal scream.

I eventually return to consciousness and get up, but I don't know why. Of my own accord, I blindfold myself and intend to remain like that until the next morning, whenever that may be.

I keep dialling his number. It remains engaged all through the day.

What went before - To be continued

BACK TO VANNA's HOMEPAGE