molly my empties her heart

No that wont do, Thta's no way to start a blog is it?

I've just come back to the UK from a few months in my own small fairytale country...because "my man" like my grandmother calls my boyfriend is in this country. "So that's where your future is" says my lovely old wich of a nan and smiles. Walks away and gossips about us both and her crazy grandchild who's running away again...and what will come of it all!

My mother smiles and says its okay I leaving. The guy at customs checks my bag like they always do, although look pretty white (reminds me I should really stop worrying about skin cancer and have a sunbed some time soon) and middle class,. Maybe they pick me to prove a point. Or maybe they find me so attractive they're looking for a reason to chat to me. God knows.

I walk around the airport and think of all these people with their emtional connections spun like a spiderweb around the globe. Some are just going away on holiday or business. But then there's people like me.

We are the eternal travellers. We always have the passport ready when we get to the gate, we have erything on us, and put down our bags with determinationon the blue airport seats. We don't belong and belong. We long to belong somewhere and everytime we feel we do we get claustrophobis and run away.