Opening Lines

I’m sitting in a small room in the west of Scotland looking out of my window at a view of rolling greens and grand stone buildings with pointed tops. The view from a room is almost as important as the room itself- specially when it's a small, study size room and an airplane size bathroom. And no, those rolling greens are not hills, but gardens that belong to an old university. This city I call home (well, partially home, but we’ll get to that in a moment) has two beautiful art shops, a very bad reputation for crime, and is romantic in the way that thunderstorms are romantic.
Let’s call it Home Base II

Home Base I is on the other side of the world. Well, almost. It’s in a country of extremes and myths. It’s a city by the sea where the warm, salty breeze caresses your face and totally fucks your hair; where the sound of the sea can be heard over the screaming traffic (sometimes); and where it is impossible to apply blush without it turning to oil within 4 minutes of stepping outside.

The obvious common factor, besides me living in both of them, is, of course, that the heavy winds routinely render umbrellas useless. Oh, and they both sport magnificent stone buildings designed by the British.

Almost all my friends, boyfriends, mistakes, and decisions have been made (and changed) in the life that has unfolded between long slow flights, lots of drunken Saturday nights, and too many questions.

This is the view from where I stand.