London

Arrived Saturday night, blew through immigration on the IRIS line (spooky eye scan/reading technology that eliminates need for passport control). Mine was the first bag off the plane (it helps being the last one on). Text messaged my cousins who were right there waiting at arrivals; I made it from airplane to auto in under 20 minutes and that included a stop for a tinkle in the very clean Heathrow lavatory, Terminal 4.

Cousins, Chateau de Grave claret, home cooked meal and a lovely guest bed I know and love.

I dreamt of a train ride and a lover kissing me while another man touched my hand.

Sunday filled with Christmas craft fairs and lunch and walks around town.

 Dark now the rain splatters the taxi window. Alone through the dark I travel the short distance to the hotel near work, where I put out my armor, my costume, my uniform. Tomorrow I become something else, a cautious diplomat, a calculating mover, a smiling shaker. 

And the next day? I have a date the next day, a date with a temptation, a date with a dare, a date with a friend and a stranger.

Rain and dark welcome me here and here I feel welcomed.