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| Cosmo's on the terrace after a full body massage. |
Five hours ago I didn't want to go home.
I would have been more than content if a tsunami had hit Fistral Beach and swallowed me to an oceanic grave; safe in the satisfaction that I had experienced every level and form of indulgence in my last week on earth.
I find that the world has an extraordinary way of revealing to it's inhabitants a rare insight into the parallel universe of "What if...?"
A chance to move on? A taster of a possible future? Or just a chance to see what perfection really feels like. I've experienced them all this week; but nothings ever that simple. Cloud nine is more of a holiday or vacation rather than that pokey little apartment (that's as close to Fifth Avenue as can be afforded) that we call home.
Of course, reality is never far behind and just like that stunning week in the Bahama's, the time will always come to go back home. Back to reality.
A romantic evening with the perfect man, an all-inclusive spa weekend with a best friend and my most rewarding pay-day yet. I know what perfection is when I'm living it, and I know what it isn't- and it most certainly isn't next week.
Of course, that Tsunami never did hit Fistral Beach, and as a consequence, I have been swallowed into a limbo of various long, hot and crowded forms of transport back to the real world. A somewhat hilarious metaphor for how far I have to go and progress in life to reach said "perfect" destination.
All I can say is thank god I made it home safely, in one piece, and just in time to catch the last few stunning rays of sunshine of this heatwave.
Overall I have concluded that there is no need to worry, because that perfect little life is only a bus ride away... or two... or three!
Peace Out ♥
