Lmao so I was thinking of making my work art name Sol Somnivagrious since I've been cross-pollinating it with my GG stuff anyway and Sol is also Latin and a lot of my art already has a bunch of sun motifs so to anyone who doesn't know about my... hyperfixation... it just looks kinda aesthetic.

Anyway, before I settled on Somnivagrious back in 2015, I know I had another handle I was debating on maybe using instead. So there were two: Somnivagrious and this other one. I couldn't remember what the other one was other than that it was also Latin-ish and sun-themed, with Sol in it somewhere. It wasn't in my sketchbook from that period but I still have my old personal blog and was sifting through my ancient text posts to see if I had mentioned anywhere what that other handle was and, god, the things I had forgotten.

The funniest one was perhaps how my 400,000 notes hell post (have you ever wondered how many fictional characters you’ve absorbed into your personality) was bookended by Solaire posts.

The second funniest one was this like two (brief) paragraph thing I wrote about how I was cool with otherkin tagging kin stuff on my posts like idk literally 2 days after the 400,000 note post.

I had apparently kept it secret what the two names I was deciding on for my new official art handle were going to be and only vague-posted about them on either of my old blogs, but these other discoveries are cracking me tf up. I never stood a chance finding out about Sol Guilty Gear. Put a sun-themed man in front of me and my higher brain functions cease.

(I know I've posted this official art before but I don't care, it fits the occasion)

It's my 1 year yume-versary with Belial today! I felt like being a hopeless romantic (especially after seeing this art again), so I wound up thinking about the process of how this happened. And while it's 99% coincidences that make me happy, when put together like this they do form a love story...

While I got into GBF because of him, the actual act of falling for him "as myself" (for lack of a better way to put it) was a lot longer. Four years, in fact! It was half "I just like him with Djeeta and Lyria better" and half "Nah, he wouldn't like *me*, I'd be too shy".

Cue 2022. XD;

By which I mean, I'm not sure when in summer it started, but all of a sudden he kept showing up in my dreams (as Oribe, his semi-canon school AU self). "Oh cool, that hasn't happened before", I thought, thinking nothing of it. It seemed a good reason to write him and Djeeta in a similar setting; I'd take it.

And then I started noticing that Djeeta wasn't involved. "Well, maybe she's there but I'm seeing things from her POV this time"... ^^;

Months before the Oribe dreams, I kept dreaming about Summer Belial months before we got the Summon, which is funny anyway, but those were still focused on Djeeta. My subconscious really wanted me to have fun with Oribe/Belial, and it was going to bludgeon me until I did. At the same time, two things happened:

A particularly powerful dream about Oribe!Belial where he really wanted to take a selfie with me and kept insisting "I want to see your face, don't hide~"

The "Belial advice column for GBFest" appeared

The former was A Lot, but the latter was easily compartmentalized: "Just write the letter as if you're part of GBF's world". It took a few tries, because I had to remember kafabe (i.e. these letters were being sent to "Belial", not the devs), but I did it!

I burbled about how he'd always gotten me out of writer's block, because of course, and made absolutely sure not to overthink my heart racing while imagining sending it in canon. It was in English, down to the pen name "Shy Writer", and knew it probably wouldn't get picked for the GBFest segment.

"Just the fantasy is enough," I thought, forgetting what "yume" meant.

Fast forward to Jan 2023!

GBFest is here, it's fun whether you're there in person or not...and I'm catching up on Day 1's stream after falling asleep. ^^; I found the "Belial answers fanmail" segment and was just enjoying the spectacle. Here's a video of it separate from the massive stream one:

Someone had sent in something about being shy/nervous about who they liked, very likely him. (Also they called him "Beli-chan", which is adorable.) Belial read it normally, but his response (at 4:13, yes I've kept track of it)...well...

He let out probably the deepest, sultriest chuckle we've heard from him yet, which is saying a lot, and then added "'Shy'? How cute (kawaii ne)~."

Again: it's all coincidence, of course. Just a lot of convenient circumstances that eventually lined up into a fantasy narrative that makes me happy.

But boy did it not matter in that moment, when I felt like a tsundere who'd been found out after a whole season of UST. XD

It felt like there wasn't any need to deny it anymore. Nor to make excuses that were never going to hold up, as long as I kept denying that sense of fun to my own detriment. Or, to be extra sappy about it--it was as if Belial had been seducing me throughout '22 to the beginning of '23 and had now finally gotten the point across to my very dense self-insert/OC.

I've been enjoying myself a lot since then--going out more, trying new hobbies, just being happier in general. Could that have happened without this as a push? Maybe. But it didn't happen until I "had food at home", so to speak, which feels telling.

I think we as a species need space in our heads for imagination and play, and that varies from person to person. Along with writing, mine just happens to be (day)dreaming about the Primarch of Cunning acting like a bird of paradise and/or seducing me and my self-insert OC into semi-reasonable sleep schedules.

So, yeah. Happy anniversary, Belial. May there be many more!

SORRY

SUMMARY: when a game in a interview show up, Tom can't keep his mout shut.

A/N: this is my first imagine of tom omg i love him so much. as always, english it's not my first language so i hope this is good! take care of yourself pls! (gifs not mine)

"baby, remember we can't get together." you said while on the screen of your cell phone you watched your boyfriend brushing his teeth.

"why not?" he removed his brush from his mouth to ask.

"because everyone will know that we are together." you let out a sigh.

"they won't know." he shook and spat into the sink before speaking back to the screen. "let me go for you." he said with a pout.

"Thomas." this time, your voice was a little more serious.

"fine darling, but don't call me Thomas, it feels like you don't love me anymore." the latter put a smile on your face.

"I will always love you, dumbass." you rolled your eyes and got out of bed when you heard someone ring your doorbell. "It's probably Lizzie, so i have to hang up. love you." you said something hasty and waited for me to say it back to you, as soon as the "love you too" left your boyfriend's lips, you hung up the call.

when you opened the door, Elizabeth was behind her in a pretty light blue dress and her hair was tied in a ponytail. "hey, girl. Scarlett is in the car so we should go right now." she said something hastily and took your hand to get you out of your apartment.

as soon as they got to where the interview would be recorded you were able to locate several of your colleagues, however, Tom was not there.

"does anyone know where the fuck is Tom Holland?" you ask.

"I told you that the kid was a problem." Sebastian said as he sat down in a chair next to Anthony.

"I'm here!" your boyfriend's unmistakable voice echoed throughout the place, forcing you to turn to meet his gaze. he looked handsome as hell, he was wearing a black pants, a white shirt and a black jacket.

"who invited him? damn, now the whole interview is ruined." Anthony said sarcastically, causing a laugh from some.

"so funny, Mackie." your boyfriend rolled his eyes and sat down, not before checking you up with his eyes. Tom sat on the edge, next to Lizzie. you really wanted to sit next to him, but the only available seat was between Sebastian and Scarlett.

when you sat down, you felt a vibration and you quickly picked up your phone to find out what it was that made it vibrate. It was a message from Tom.

TOM: you look so gorgeous, stop being so cute or i will die.

YOU: shut up.

TOM: i'm being serious. i just can't believe that you are my gf like omg lucky me.

YOU: you're making me blush, stop it

TOM: only the truth darling ;)

i love u so much.

YOU: love u too. now shut up, the interview is getting started.

as soon as the two of you leave your phones, the two of you found each other to smile at each other before the interview started.

"I see what's going on" Sebastian commented, pulling you out of your bubble

"huh?" you asked without understanding what he was referring to.

"you and Holland." when he spoke those words, you felt your body go numb with nerves.

"what do you mean?" you asked trying to hide the nerves that began to run through your veins.

"you two are plotting revenge on Mackie and me for bothering you so much." hearing that gave you a sigh of relief.

"yeah, totally." you said with a smile, relieved that it was not what you thought.

soon the interviewer entered the room, giving them indications of the game they would play. "so, i'm gonna say let me see the last picture in your camera roll and stuff like that." he explain quickly so that all of you could understand.

"but what if i have a nude?" you asked at random.

"you have nudes in your phone? alright dirty girl." Scarlett commented in surprise.

"no, i mean-"

"It's alright, you are on your 20's and it's understandable, don't worry about it. actually, don't share it with every guy you meet." Sebastian said next to you.

"wait, i don't-"

"just don't show it for the good of the community, got it? yeah? I want to suppose so." Anthony looked at you and said.

"leave alone the little girl, I'm sure she just ask for curiosity." Elizabeth jumped into the conversation and defended you.

"that's why you're my favorite, Liz." you blew her a kiss in the air.

"I'll make sure that didn't hurt, but okay." Tom said hiding it with a cough.

"shut up, Tom. you can't talk, surely you also have photos on your phone with your stick in the air" Anthony said with some disgust.

"did you just called his dick, stick?" Scarlett asked with a laugh.

"oh man." the man next to you shook his head. "just don't put that in the interview and let's get started."

"alright, alright." the interviewer said with a laugh. "so, we are going to separate all of you, in that way some teach one thing and the others another, it's that okay?" he asked and everyone nodded.

"wait, so if I show my first picture, Lizzie won't?" Tom asked and pointed to the girl next to him.

"no, in that case she is going to show her last photo." answered the question. "so, Tom, Scarlett and Anthony are the team one, and Lizzie, Sebastian and [Y/N] are team two. got it?"

"yes, sir." you said and took out your phone to be able to show what they ask of you.

"right, team one let's see your last picture." the guy in front of you ordered and the three people that made up that team began searching his gallery.

"mine it's really boring." Scarlett warned when she saw her last photo. "it's a glass of water." she said simply and showed a photo.

"mine is a selfie of Lizzie and i." Anthony said with a smile and showed his screen, in which the photo of the two actors stood out.

"we look good." the semi blonde said and nodded.

"what about yours, Tom?" you asked curiously and leaned forward a little to get a better look at it.

"it's ridiculous." he said and placed the palm of his hand on his forehead while showing the photo.

"why you have a picture of a tea bag?" Sebastian asked in confusion.

"because there was nothing left!" Tom said and shifted a bit in his chair so he could be face to face with all of you. "so i send this picture to my mom so she can buy more for me."

"the fuck, Tom? just go to the store." you tried to sound like his friend

"no because i want this kind of tea, i don't like others." he said with a grimace.

"and what about your juices? I thought those were your favorites." Anthony asked and rested his right cheek on his hand.

"yeah but, I like tea better." he shrugged his shoulders and smiled.

"let's continue!" the interviewer interrupted and read one of the letters in his hands. "let's see, team two i want to see your last note."

"i'm scared" you start giggling while entering the notes app.

"i can't say it." Sebastian said quickly and turned off his cell phone.

"hey, why not? show us." Scarlett insisted and crossed her arms.

"because it's a list of possible gifts for [Y/N] because her birthday is coming up." when he said this, the two of you quickly turned to look at each other. you folded your lower lip and moved closer to him so that you could hug him properly.

"yeah, so much love but i want to see the tea, darling. show us." Mackie interrupted the moment and clapped his hands to hurry you up.

"my last note says 'new angel by niall horan'." you said something confused without understanding why your last note said that. "um, what?"

"oh!" Lizzie interfered and headed towards you. "maybe it's because it was the song that was playing on the radio and you said you were going to write down the name to add it to your playlist."

"oh" you exclaimed extending the o. "yeah, i remember now."

"so, my last note says 'two and a half cups of rice'." your friend frowned at not understanding. "yeah, i don't remember that."

"let's continue with the team two, show us your last text." the interviewer ordered with a smile and those of team two quickly got into the messaging app.

"oh, this is a funny one." Sebastian said "damn it, i'm gonna burn everything because you are not going to the interview with Mackie and i." he read his last message without removing the smile from his face and then looked up. "I sent it to Evans."

"oh i see the favoritisim here." Scarlett said with a small laugh and looked at Sebastian.

"I'm going to an interview, we can hang out tomorrow." Lizzie read with narrowed eyes so she could see better. "yeah, my best friend wanted us to go out for a drink but work comes first, i guess." she grimaced and shrugged.

"oh, I'm so eager to see the latest message from [Y/N], she has the juicy stuff." Anthony said with a laugh and pointed at you.

"oh my god, may the lord save me." you said while entering the message app. you widened your eyes when you saw that the last message you sent had been to Tom, you tried to get into another chat, but Sebastian discovered you.

"hey!" he said quickly and stopped your hand. "without cheating."

"well, mine says love u too. now shut up, the interview is getting started." when you finished reading, you felt your cheeks begin to turn a crimson color.

"I wonder who you sent it to." Lizzie said and touched her chin pretending to think.

"is it that boyfriend of yours?" Sebastian asked and you nodded slowly.

"wait, do you have a boyfriend?" the boy asked you in amazement and you nodded again while covering your face with your cell phone.

"let me tell you something about this girl." Mackie interrupted everything and when he started talking, you knew you were going to be embarrassed. "she has a boyfriend, but she doesn't show it. upload photos to her social networks and cover the boy's face."

"even we don't know who it is." the blonde said. "we are creating a team of spies to discover the identity of her lover."

"I'm afraid that all of you may never find out." you said very sure and pulled the phone away from your face.

Tom hadn't said a word since his shift started. he was simply looking at you with eyes of love because he could not be near you. he hadn't realized that you had read his last text message, he was lost in how good you looked.

"Tom?" Elizabeth moved the boy a little, pulling him out of his bubble.

"um, yes?" he answered something lost, not understanding what was happening around him.

"read us your last text message, prince charming." Stan annoyed him and ordered him at the same time.

when you noticed that your boyfriend looked a bit lost, you begged not to read the same message and everyone would realize what was happening between the two of you.

"alright." the brunnette took out his cell phone and entered your chat. "love u too. now shut up, the interview is getting started." he looked up and smiled at his companions. "it was from my girlfriend." at that moment, you felt your cheeks burn and your body completely paralyzed. Tom had publicly exposed the relationship.

"wait a damn minute." Anthony said and looked at Tom and then at you.

"i knew it!" Scarlett got up from her chair and did a little victory dance.

"this is too much, i can't believe it." Sebastian put a hand on his forehead. "how can you lie to me!" he yelled at you and shook your shoulders making you laugh.

"um, hi?" Holland said without understanding. "what's going on?"

"just don't talk, i think you already said a lot." you told him and covered your face with both of your hands.

"what do you mean?" he asked again.

"you, Thomas Holland." Elizabeth turned so she could face him. "you just made your relationship with [Y/N] known" when the brunette processed these words, he quickly leaned in to look at you.

"sorry?" he said with an awkward smile and shrugged.

Sick Kids Group Chat

sonmychest: 🤗 tigerbalm: 👋🧡 tigerbalm: it's been so long! 🙀 how are you?? sonmychest: I know! I suck sonmychest: don't want to be the youtuber spending ten minutes apologizing for not being here though sonmychest: I'm doing pretty good right now, how are you? 😚 tigerbalm: it's a bad day, not a bad life...is what I would caption if I was an instagram influencer or something 😸😸 brainpain: 🦸 speaking for me when I haven't streamed in days LOL sonmychest: 🤭🤭 sonmychest: at least we have reasons for being that #extra that aren't the vague notion of NEEDING a break from taking pictures of our ☕ brainpain: I do spend LOTS of time in a dark room but not for 📸 no flash photography PLEASE 😵 inandout: your feed just updated, Lo brainpain: 👮🚓🚨 sonmychest: stalking or hacking? sonmychest: either way I might need those expertise brainpain: I had a 🌈✨🧁 FIGHT ME, Zachary tigerbalm: it is pretty tbh inandout: friend request, but it's not as if I don't have zero hacking or stalking skills sonmychest: wait, what happened to the anonymity rules??? sonmychest: where's @gotspoons and what have you done with her?! inandout: you missed the overthrowing of a tyrant inandout: not really, but the rule book is gone gotspoons: going to pretend I was summoned by mention, not notification gotspoons: say how you really feel, Zach! 😔 inandout: I said not really, rowboat gotspoons: I have 👀 and 👂 everywhere so you better be nice 😏🤭 gotspoons: but no, hi again, @sonmychest! we missed you! gotspoons: it seemed the whole no names no real life details thing was more of a hindrance than a help to the whole goal of this group, so we came to the conclusion by majority, and the higher ups were all okay with it, providing everyone under a certain age got their parents to sign off and we all used the same common sense we use on other areas of the web gotspoons: so feel free to introduce yourself by real name if you would like, but it's not necessary if you would not 😊 gotspoons: reintroduce, I should say tigerbalm: we shared selfies & everyone was 😻😻😻 brainpain: learned what a sex god @tooexhaustedtolivevicariously aka Rich is sonmychest: 😱😱😱 sonmychest: can't believe I've missed so much sonmychest: need to get better at socialization, my mammy is right 😂 brainpain: an unrivalled love story brainpain: not that he's here to back me up on that inandout: Paris and Helen who? Romeo and Juliet who? Anne Boleyn and Henry VIII who? tigerbalm: wait, those are all 💔😿!! brainpain: he's being a brainpain: insert a swear word of your choice sonmychest: *stage whispers* it's not jealousy though, is it? sonmychest: clearly, fill me in on all the nuances whilst I frantically try to find a picture of myself that's even one 😻 brainpain: he's a 👶 you already know brainpain: but Rich will be leaving me for some uni girl 🤓 so he's not wrong about the doomed part sonmychest: face that launched a thousand ships is a really great insta bio though sonmychest: right, so we have Rich, Zach...who else? gotspoons: Rosie here 🤗 brainpain: Lauren tigerbalm: & me, Robyn inandout: the new girl who started the revolution is Zelda inandout: @ihatemyguts sonmychest: no way sonmychest: a fellow nerd, or at least child-of-a-nerd sonmychest: 'cos I'm Kara and I don't totally hate this photo [selfie] tigerbalm: 😻😻 tigerbalm: you look so like I imagined you, except I thought maybe you'd be 👼 tigerbalm: should we all send new pics? brainpain: [does because any excuse] brainpain: they'll be buried tigerbalm: [a selfie that's even shyer than the first one she sent] gotspoons: [the same photo as before] inandout: if I must [some ridiculous selfie] tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: This is a nice welcome back tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: and I've only been to physio brainpain: NOT ready for another selfie drop from you, boy brainpain: I'll be on my fainting couch brainpain: also hi tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: Perhaps I should save your 🦴s and my pride when poor Kara, hello again btw, has to pretend to swoon too brainpain: 🦸 has great taste brainpain: we all love a shy boy tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: My teachers undoubtedly wish I were shy, make their lives a lot easier tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: [a photo] here we are anyway, I hope you found a soft surface suitable for you, Lauren brainpain: ☁ tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: Ah, so you're the 👼 brainpain: LMAO 😈 brainpain: but you're looking angelic sir sonmychest: how are you ALL so cute sonmychest: this keeps happening, omg tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: 👼 face hides a multitude of 😈 sins apparently inandout: but reading between the lines, who else is making you swoon/stalk/hack inandout: that's my question tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: Well spotted, Zachary 🔎 sonmychest: 🙈 ugh, I'm so embarrassing sonmychest: but we can pretend it's all spilling out now because I played it SO cool in the actual conversation, right 😬😅 inandout: that's the official story, everyone'll confirm sonmychest: thanks, I need the backup so I can also pretend I have lots of friends and a normal social life gotspoons: we are your friends, Kara! gotspoons: though are normal is different from most tigerbalm: & you're coming to my birthday party & even though you have to stand on the other side of the room to Zach, it's still social tigerbalm: OH & we were talking about potentially meeting up!! All of us brainpain: keep it 6ft, children inandout: I'll be in the garden with my date, you can have the indoors with yours inandout: collectively, because we're all speed dating here now inandout: proud of you for picking someone outside this circle sonmychest: GAH so much exciting information today!!! sonmychest: 😁 sonmychest: obviously, I figured no one needed the drama of me falling for you, Zach sonmychest: 💀 not cute inandout: there's already a book and film about it, the chance has been thoroughly missed brainpain: Ignore him, Zelda's nothing but thrilled to find someone else in her age bracket brainpain: 👶👶 brainpain: hit us with your 💞 please sonmychest: well, I didn't just re-log into this chat today, I went on all my old forums because well, boredom, we can all relate, right? sonmychest: what I thought would be the least promising one was the sonmychest: not a dating site, I'm not 100 but you know the kind sonmychest: anyway, the CUTEST boy starts talking to me and he's also really funny and nice ??? tigerbalm: OMG! Did you swap selfies there too? sonmychest: not yet sonmychest: because he sounds so 😻😻 sonmychest: and he wants to talk to me again and he might not if we do tigerbalm: you're 😻😻😻 Kara brainpain: what she said brainpain: + if he's as funny, nice, all of that, as you said brainpain: I doubt he's a shallow jerk inandout: are you a good judge of character or not? inandout: what it comes down to sonmychest: oh, thank you guys! sonmychest: I don't know sonmychest: I think I am sonmychest: he didn't immediately come out with weird requests or weird 📸 of his own and that's a massive start on that site, I was honestly there to 🗑 my account but he changed my mind brainpain: I'll PM you the spooky stories my sister sends me about guys, it'll make you feel better brainpain: you'd know if he was one sonmychest: 🤭 do, can compare notes sonmychest: we honestly just talked about totally normal, nerdy things, it wasn't even a little sketch brainpain: ✉️ + 100000000s brainpain: hold up tigerbalm: that sounds 🧡 & so does this boy tigerbalm: awwhhh sonmychest: [sends the description he sent her slow your roll gal lol] sonmychest: assuming he isn't the archetypal internet weirdo from the 90s scare tactics tigerbalm: WOW inandout: tall, dark and handsome inandout: original sonmychest: okay, I know that covers a lot of bases sonmychest: but someone has to be brainpain: continuing to ignore you, Zach sonmychest: I get it though sonmychest: it's not like I even care what he looks like though, so even if the pics aren't exactly that description brainpain: not every man can be my Rich but doesn't make them 👹/🤡/👻/👽/👥 brainpain: trust your gut, it's not that body part that's failing you tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: 👹 is a solid representation but the hair needs to be longer tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: at the risk of making myself or Zachary appear like overly protective boys, I think as long as you're as sensible as you surely are with this, then there's no harm in the back and forth tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: so if you were going to meet this person IRL, he could perhaps come to the group meet-up, that would be a good way to do it? brainpain: *🧝🏻 that's what needs to be said about your representation tigerbalm: Great idea, Rich! 😺 tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: when the beard comes in I'll look more Gimli than Elrond but I'll take the compliment 👽 babe from outerspace brainpain: who's watching the LoTRs with me? gotspoons: count me out, I'm the worst film buddy ever 😴 ihatemyguts: how many naps could you have in 20hr28mins assuming we're watching everything extended release 'cos duh ihatemyguts: 🥳 go hard or go home 🥳 brainpain: that's you in ihatemyguts: of course ihatemyguts: long since stopped asking for a pause every time I gotta 💩 ihatemyguts: adept at catching up with the plot is a life skill I didn't expect to gain like this but 🙌 gotspoons: 😅 I could do the whole 20hr28mins and that not be a record for how many hours I've slept consecutively brainpain: I'll act it out for you, I can get the 🧝🏼🏹 costume together during the pauses brainpain: dressing up box runneth over sonmychest: 🙋 dibs Arwen sonmychest: my old Katniss cosplay can be repurposed with some bedsheets and a 👸 vibe to it brainpain: that makes Rich your daddy 👀 you, babe sonmychest: 😖😳 nooooooooooo brainpain: I'll be Galadriel if only so I can speak to my man telepathically 💕 brainpain: swerving off book for that love connection ihatemyguts: obviously eye of sauron ihatemyguts: jokes write themselves inandout: hair of a hobbit wig so likewise inandout: and you know, a jew, gonna be the one to handle the 💎 tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: How hairy are your feet, a pickup line that doesn't get thrown about enough inandout: not sending you free feet pics inandout: PM for prices though tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: Respect the hustle, Zachary tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: but I have clearly pledged myself and my allegiance to an e-girl already 🧝🏼🏹 brainpain: changed my Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim name to Galadriel for you, Richard, you've officially made me basic brainpain: will cite it in the divorce tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: as long as I can proudly produce said divorce to every mouthbreather that calls me a freak, I am okay with that tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: devastated, naturally 💔 but okay brainpain: hit me up for multiple re-marriages at your convenience, I like that for us tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: Make a solid livestream 👰💒🤵 gotspoons: I'll get officiated! tigerbalm: imagine if any of us actually did get together cos of this forum gotspoons: You never know, Robyn gotspoons: it would be so adorable 😊 tigerbalm: Kara is giving me hope that online dating doesn't have to be a minefield sonmychest: don't give up yet! sonmychest: you're so lovely, a total catch tigerbalm: there still isn't a blushing 😸 emoji & I NEED it ihatemyguts: a travesty ihatemyguts: who do we need to @ for that brainpain: @fibrofog brainpain: he was a BIG DEAL ihatemyguts: 😏 hoping he comes back and I can 👰💒🤵 him obvs brainpain: 🔺 between me/him/Rich was prime in my life ihatemyguts: glory dayz brainpain: if he doesn't show up to stop our first wedding ihatemyguts: Zach won't even properly date me until we're confirmed #foreveralone at 18 inandout: you don't call this properly dating? inandout: @Kara you've got yourself a hater before your romance has fully taken off ihatemyguts: oi, don't drag me in to your 🧂 behaviour ihatemyguts: I'm very nice, I swear inandout: that's just how I taste inandout: she knows brainpain: if I didn't know my CF facts I'd be calling for a ban brainpain: that sounds filthy sonmychest: first declaring Rich my daddy, now 👅 Zach 😲😲😲 sonmychest: I'm also quite nice but not that kind of nice, I 🤞 tigerbalm: I don't think I wanna know.... inandout: But I'll tell you inandout: when we sweat, we lose too much salt, one of our many flaws inandout: on a hot day, you could lick us and taste it, if we like you enough to let you sonmychest: maybe that can be enough of a selling point? sonmychest: if crush boy talks to me again and it invariably comes up inandout: he might get to see it crystallise on your skin, not 💎 or ✨ but hey sonmychest: such a sexy condition, when you leave out all the mucus inandout: ZZ top is feeling it, she wants to properly date me ihatemyguts: 🧂 is a flavour I can enjoy pretty unrestricted ihatemyguts: let me have some pleasure tigerbalm: do the normies flirt like this too? tigerbalm: Kara you'll have to tell us, when you go further undercover ihatemyguts: don't know how lucky you are to have that pickup line in your back pocket ihatemyguts: just add tequila and a lemon and you've got a good time sonmychest: I'll 100% report back, providing he doesn't go 👻 brainpain: you need a drink when a boy lovingly strokes your hair only to feel the dent in your 💀 sonmychest: but also, to work out if your amazing hair is real or nah brainpain: I have too many split ends to be asked if it's a wig sonmychest: I ✂ my own sonmychest: and not often enough 😅 brainpain: don't reach for the bleach cos Robbie sees you as a blonde, there's my sisterly/old lady advice sonmychest: oh God, with these brows? sonmychest: I can swear I won't do that, along with meet up with internet randos alone brainpain: I'd volunteer to come along but I don't do disappearing into the background brainpain: would wear a trenchcoat for the right 💸💸 gotspoons: Normies definitely TRY to use our disabilities as a way to flirt with us, with varying success gotspoons: the amount of time I spend in bed is nothing to be 😏 about, honestly gotspoons: even if I was also chiming in to confirm blondes do have more fun, when they've had all their vitamins, a perfect amount of sleep, the stars have aligned JUST right... 🤭 tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: as resident ♿ user, they most ask if IT 'works', which is a bizarre level of care for people who aren't concerned about how me getting into their establishment really 'works' tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: and, my dear, you are a terrible third wheel tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: 🔻 suits you better than obscurity 😎 brainpain: but I am a fun time with the TBI having increased the impulsiveness + removing the few inhibitions I did have 😉 brainpain: inappropriate sexual activity is a listed symptom 🤞 boys ihatemyguts: definitely a case of 'okay when I point it out to embolden myself, creepy if you do it' ihatemyguts: think some normies point out their flaws to be endearing but idk, is low-key a disability superpower guys, + 1 for us brainpain: like, what does that mean? Inappropriate for who? Answers on a ✉️ please ihatemyguts: could range from, science, you're being a prude to calling you a master criminal on the low brainpain: so many of my symptoms could describe anyone in their teens or early 20s brainpain: Rich, write a smart boy uni essay on it tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: depending on the bit that gets damaged, could be the same part that isn't yet fully developed in young people tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: checks out 🧠 brainpain: you're SO clever brainpain: you'll be fighting off more than one 🤓 girl tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: I'm not sure about that, on either count tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: though the chair is a useful battering ram when it needs to be brainpain: I'm into it tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: then you can hitch a ride, of course brainpain: reserved™ tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: the parking is unparalleled brainpain: not allowed to drive, you are my transport now, no pressure gotspoons: Me either, who can? gotspoons: need to work out the carpool situation brainpain: my housemate will, she owes me 10000s of favours inandout: + my parents tigerbalm: mine too but they're a lot to inflict upon anyone sonmychest: ^^hard same tigerbalm: maybe we get ourselves there unless someone can't? tigerbalm: & those people speak up sonmychest: That makes sense to me brainpain: ok, is there anyone who needs a lift? ihatemyguts: I'm good tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: likewise gotspoons: I'll make a permanent post where people can register interest in the meet-up, as well as need for a lift gotspoons: so anyone who can offer a lift, can respond there too, sound good guys? 😊 inandout: cool inandout: very un-tyrant like gotspoons: thank you, Zach 😏

Harrowingly Strange

When was the last time you had to face a moral dilemma? I am still reeling. I actually just got home. I think I invented a new selfie style. I wanted to take a photo of my makeup on and off.

As I currently write this, I am not an actor but instead have been doing background work for the past year. I've occasionally been a featured extra and was a body double once.

It's fascinating, seeing and doing the work that embodies being on set.

A couple of days ago, I received a message from a casting agency that had my headshot asking to submit my photo for a featured non-speaking role with a local production company. It was a one or two day shoot at $200 per day. I said yes and I got the gig.

When you are cast, you get an email the night before with details about the set location, start time, special instructions, and wardrobe. This show I booked was for a reenactment TV series about real world events. The exciting news was that this particular episode revolved around a crisis that occurred in my parents' homeland. I was to play someone at home seeing the news on television, and then in a second scene complain to police of their incompetence. I was asked to bring leisure clothing one would wear at home.

When I first started being an extra, I would bring my clothes in a backpack, trying really hard not to care too much. That behavior did not last. I found my interest stumbling forward into a natural evolution. I started taking luggage to neatly carry my wardrobe options. I found that I would mostly get cast as a mid-30's businessman. This led me to comfortably bring my outfits in a garment bag. It's funny how familiarity can grow your views.

For today, I packed shorts, sweatpants, t-shirts, a hoodie, a pair of runners, and a pair of flip flops. I got these flip flops during my last vacation with my mom overseas in her hometown. I also brought some henley shirts and arrived on set in khakis and a short-sleeved polo because there was also a mention of button-ups being an option.

The majority of work involved as an extra is waiting. It's a good idea to bring a book, although in this day and age, occupying oneself with a smart phone is a much more fulfilling time killer. I didn't end up using any of the clothes I had brought except for my belt and my runners. After my hair and makeup were done I decided to satisfy my curiosity by searching keywords of this specific production. I searched the name of the character I was to reenact. Adding quotations to strict strings of words, I had soon discovered the event I was going to portray. This was when my moral dilemma began.

I was born and raised in North America by immigrant parents who arrived in their early 20's. The typical experiences had by people of color paint a relatively positive mural that represents my upbringing. Having visited my ethnic country many times throughout my life, I felt, and still feel, a deep connection to the motherland. This connection is common for others like myself, powered by identity in a time where life will sometimes present it as a limitation. Conversely, this only strengthens cultural pride.

The role I was to play was an international representing their countrymen against the very country I identify with. Pangs of uneasiness flooded my body. There was another featured role performer who had an earlier call time. We sat together in the holding area. He was cast to play the part of a family member learning the news of the event. What surprised me more was the fact that he was a recent immigrant from my country of ethnicity. Us both, cast in roles of coincidental conflict of interest?

When it comes to acting, the only other time I recall having feelings of apprehension was during a big budget movie filmed in a church. I was a church goer among a sea of church goers seated in church pews. We were instructed to portray the enjoyment of a church service. Some of us were selected to stand and sway to the Christian music. Some had their eyes closed, head tilted to the ceiling, palms facing up to the heavens. As easy a physical task that is, I instead opted to clap along to the band and pretend to really feel the sounds of my favorite music. I know it's just acting but I was driven by the thought of my mom seeing me do anything other than that on camera. So, I coursed the music through my veins. I know the history of the band members, the albums, this music moves me, pretend.

I received my paperwork and read it over a cup of coffee from craft services. It was standard paperwork that I've filled out over a dozen times before. I looked at the inviting exit door. I was parked right outside. This is not that big of a deal, is it? I imagined this TV episode making its way to the news overseas, the citizens all over the world deeming me a traitor for perpetuating a negative image, not merely through action but through representation against them. Against us. Am I selling out? For two hundred bucks?

I thought about getting up and leaving. I thought about all of the hard work that people have put into this specific production. If you haven't been behind the scenes before, it is quite the trip. An assortment of heavy duty cables line the floors, taped in place. Racks of props in designated areas. The backstage crew zip around in sync, bursting with walkie-talkie sounds and hollers of instruction. There is a commonality in the many interactions, their minds tuned into the goal meant to be achieved. This is their career.

This is my hobby. I am a prop. Would leaving this put a blemish on my record in the local film community, or the film industry as a whole, because I wasted everyone's time being sensitive? As I languished, I get a message from my best friend and I tell him I'm on set. I tell him:

For some reason, that makes me feel better. I just might be able to work with that mentality. The other guy has finished. He returns his wardrobe and collects his belongings. I ask him if he knows what this show is about. We speak in our language among the English-speakers. I ask him if he thinks people back home are going to be mad at us. I ask him if he knew we were going to be doing this. He seems ok with it all. He said he was there during the actual event. He's new to the industry. We laugh about how we can pass as different races. This is his first time being on camera. He said he enjoyed the experience. I ask him if he'll continue. He said yes. I hope he does.

Finally, wardrobe is set and I am wearing a navy blue golf shirt and some gray slacks. I want to feel good, like the other times I've worked. How can I get that feeling? They're calling me on set. They adjust the lighting while I sit in front of the camera. A fog machine fills the mock living room belonging to my character. When the camera rolls, there is a fake TV in front of me that I am to watch casually at first and then grow increasingly interested as the live footage I am pretending to watch unfolds. I am supposed to build up into a frustration with the host country. My country. As I understand it, the real guy is being interviewed and I am the reenactment; the illustration of his side of the story. I do the scene. Twice. Filming took less than 5 minutes total. The whole time I was thinking about my mom. I can remember it still, a few hours ago today, the director describing the gradual transpiring of the footage to guide me. To help me see a reason to be frustrated on camera. It wasn't helping. It's not his fault. I don't think it's anyone's fault. I don't think they even knew why I would be uncomfortable. I don't think they knew much about the countries involved in the event. They even spelled the city name wrong. I don't even think the takes were that bad.

I wish it wasn't about my country. If it were different, I feel like I could have given more - like I had done at the church.

It's unsettling to perform make-believe, but for myself I have managed to apply a mental exercise that immerses me into a character; to actually be the person. The trick is to relate. To tie the emotion to a real memory and relive it. If it had only been about another country, I'm sure I would have enjoyed the process a lot more.

I'm writing this and I was hoping it would help me shake away this dread. Thoughts of regret imagining if I had only researched the keywords sooner. Maybe I would have cancelled. But that wouldn't have been better. I would be blacklisted and never cast as another role again. Or maybe I'm being dramatic. Hey, that's good for this line of work, right?

I honestly hope the final cut looks great. This is the biggest role I've ever been in. They gelled my hair funny like a nerd, I had on large framed glasses, just like the portrayed, and they put makeup on my upper lip to hide my dark, clean-shaven stubble.

When I got home, before I washed my makeup off, I took a before and after mirror selfie because my face looked comedically smooth. Taking the pictures reminded me of when I was sipping coffee in the holding area. I had taken pictures of my paperwork. I remember my mind racing. The feeling was like gathering license plates and insurance information after a collision. You know, just in case I have to stand trial, my cultural membership in jeopardy. I can review my situation with a lawyer to see what I can and can not say during a variety show interview that is getting my side of the story after viral, captioned screenshots of me flood the internet with embarrassing memes, stamped into history. Jesus Christ, that would be the worst. Here I go again with extreme maybes. It's an entertaining curse that I will forever be engulfed in my own hypothetical torture.

Anyway, here's that selfie I invented:

Yeah my bathroom mirrors are dirty.

I can't wait for my next job that I can cleanse my palate with. I really hope I can accept today as purely an actor's portrayal, and not a turncoat betrayal. This can't be my last go at acting. I ate some of my country's food for supper. I feel a bit better. I'm wearing a shirt that is emblazoned with our country's sports hero.

I have always been excited to see the final release of a production I am in, except for this one now. Uncontrollably, my perverse curiosity into the film world is only strengthening, so I don't think even the worst thoughts can slow my future participation. The silver lining is that the uncomfortable bar is set to a new level. I could reenact a murderous deviant now without batting a moral eyelash, I like to think. All for the sake of film.

- WSS, February 8, 2019

One Hundred And Nine Beds

We loved Ecuador so much we stayed an extra day. Although that's not strictly true, it sounds much better than: despite having a bulletproof plan for getting to the airport, arriving there four hours ahead of our flight, and sitting for two hours at what was initially promoted as the correct gate, we somehow conspired to miss our flight. We still have no idea when they changed the gate, why we didn't notice, or what on earth happened to their customer service announcements. Tiredness, relaxation and misplaced trust lulled us into false sense of security and we were rewarded with a monumental fuck up and no hint of an apology. There are few things you want to experience less at a foreign airport than the icicle stab in your guts of realising you are stuck in a territorial no-man's land, on the wrong side of a continent, facing a temporal and financial haemorrhage that you have to resolve in another language. There are the immediate practical problems to deal with of course, but also the wave of humiliation and self-recrimination. How on earth did we manage to make their mess into our problem? Staff members trooped us off around the airport getting our exit stamps annulled, and down to the basement where our rucksacks lay unceremoniously dumped by a door next to the tarmac. Just to underline our misdemeanours the narcotics police then proceeded to dismantle our bags. It was surreal and strangely violating to see your sorry pile of belongings through a stranger's eyes; that the backbone of your life for ten months is nothing but crap. Given that we weren't drug smugglers, we were allowed to proceed with our walk of shame back through security and baggage reclaim before facing the inevitable at the airline ticket desk. Mercifully the woman on duty had fluent English and quickly reassured us that for the bargain price of a lost day and $198 we could still get to Rio de Janeiro. Painful, but nothing like as wounding as I'd feared. There was nothing but a web address to consult about our complaints, and we were sent off into the night.

Reluctant to bankrupt ourselves further and urgently feeling in need of some control we found a nearby town on the map, jumped on a local bus, and hustled down a dark, desolate road in search of accommodation. Our hunch that anywhere that close to an airport would feature hostals was correct and we holed up for the night, spending our last few dollars on pizza and beer, and hurriedly trying to make contact with our hotel in Rio. It was a prime case of sod's law that having decided to blow the accommodation budget on our final lodgings (a whole £30 a night, woooooooh!), we wantonly discarded a night of our booking. So here we are, back at Quito airport, paranoidly sat below the departures board at our supposed gate. Three hours should do it today.

...

Shortly after dawn we were hurtling through the streets of Rio on a transfer bus, astonished at seeing a huge high rise city again. Rio was covered in simple black graffiti tags at street level and at impossible heights all over tower blocks, bridges, and industrial buildings. The city had the appearance of having been infected with a rash of kanji. Delivered just a block from our hotel, we weaved around encampments of rough sleepers. At six in the morning it was already hot, and the bracing smell of human waste and desperation competed with the tropical plants of the park. While we might have been late, at least we had a bed to sleep in and a home to go back to. The kindly night receptionist was waiting for us and pointed out that the breakfast buffet had just opened. A quality breakfast was one of our pre-requisites when deciding where to stay so there was quite a weight of expectation upon it. Still wired from the events of the previous thirty-six hours, and suffering from no sleep and another two hour forward time jump, we were a bit over-excitable. There was a lift, carpeted hallways, key-cards, and a great room with a massive bed and powerful, hot shower. It could have been the Ritz and not felt like a better treat. We fell on the breakfast buffet like vultures then passed out until the late afternoon.

Other than for references to the quality night life, ‘sketchy' was the main adjective we’d seen used in relation our new neighbourhood of Lapa. We divested ourselves of valuables and ventured out on a quest for orientation, dinner and some good old Brazilian beer. Finding ourselves in a sports bar we utilised our best pointing and smiling technique in the acquisition of some tea. Portuguese might look like Spanish, but it sounds like Hungarian and we were utterly clueless once more. After fuelling up, some more beer was in order and it just so happens that Rio is full of actual bars, not cafes that might serve beer, but beer emporia that might serve snacks. Yes the area was a bit moody in places, but not to the extent that you'd hide in your hotel, and there was more than a hint of promise for the weekend. We soaked it up for a while then headed back, detouring by the hotel roof to survey the scene. We were surprised to find the view dominated by a terrifying Mayan temple-style ziggurat in brutalist concrete. Behind the local aqueduct-cum-tourist tramline it lurked, gigantic and awful. A swift search revealed it was a cathedral, possibly the most dystopian fantasy cathedral ever.

Rio being a big city, we had to be modest with our expectations of what was achievable in a few days. We stayed local on the first morning, visiting the bohemian hillside neighbourhood of Santa Theresa via the tram. At the top was a theatre in a ruined colonial villa and an art gallery with marmosets in the garden. The views towards Sugar Loaf Mountain and Christ the Redeemer helped shape our itinerary for the remainder of the week. We picked around the twisty cobbled streets and managed not to punch the army of selfie-takers on the Selarón Stairs. The artist burned himself to death at the foot of his meticulously tiled staircase but this grisly fact seemed to be lost on the crowd as they posed and obstructed on the same spot. Once in possession of the right kind of ticket, we zipped off on the metro to check out Ipanema beach. James is very much a mogwai when it comes to beaches and should never be made wet or sandy, but once installed on a rented chair even he admitted it was an excellent place and suggested we should do some more beachiness. In my imagination, the beaches of Rio are full of impossibly beautiful people so it was encouraging to find all sorts present and enjoying themselves. Beach life is serious business, involving lots of team sports, sexy casual style, and alcohol. Enterprising stalls set up each day supplying chairs, parasols and drinks, and disappear again at sunset spirited away in VW campervans. Despite the breaking waves I managed a bit of a swim in the Atlantic and we chilled out as the sun went down. It was time to get formally acquainted with the caipirinha, Brazil's national drink. I suspect that caipirinha is viewed as some sort of human right in Brazil. It is ubiquitous, and invariably both the cheapest drink available and blindingly strong. It's also delicious of course, which set the tone for the remainder of the week.

Thursday saw us on the cable car up to Sugarloaf Mountain, for a spectacular view of the city and the incoming weather. On the way there we'd walked past the very swanky yacht club and therefore had a second chance to be envious, admiring the miniature yachts from above as they flew across the bay. The irony is there is no ‘January River' as Rio de Janeiro translates, the first Europeans to discover the place were mistaken. Guanabara Bay certainly looked like a mighty fine sailing ground though. We followed the short nature walk at the top and soon became enveloped in increasingly thick cloud. With the wind picking up and Rio now largely invisible, we descended once more. We pursued our plan to visit Copacabana but remained beach adjacent, supping caipirinhas and attempting to understand the rules of the foot/volley-ball hybrid game everyone plays. The sea did not look too safe for swimming, and as the sun went down it started to rain with a vengeance. Lightning pounded the sky above the mountains and ocean. Eventually we had to acknowledge it wasn't going to stop and had to make a run for it. Drenched, but still warm and cheerful we grabbed some food and called it a night. Across the road from our hotel, a mysterious festival was being set up.

We have breakfasted incrementally later as the week has progressed, which may or may not relate to the exponential increase in our alcohol consumption. Getting mobilised eventually on Friday morning, we went to investigate the intimidating cathedral. Like a reverse tardis it somehow seemed smaller on the inside. Smaller but still a vast open space with stained glass streaming down the walls from a glass cross in the roof. It was calm, cool and bold. Arriving at the modern art gallery by a rather leisurely midday was not a problem, as it emerged they only opened at midday, thus giving our tardiness the appearance of planning. Fully arted up we went for a wander round the waterfront and ran into what might have been some sort of naval graduation ceremony. Military bands in full uniform greeted dignitaries while bodyguards watched over the proceedings. We admired the architecture of one of Rio's newest museums but chose Coke and churros outside over going in. Our diabetes-baiting was rewarded with more rain so we trotted back to base for a disco nap as Rio geared up for Friday night.

When we re-emerged, Lapa had transformed itself into party central with innumerable samba bars featuring live bands. Off-licences doubled as bars, with crowds ranged across the pavements or sitting on the city's shared bicycles. Bar stalls crowded in the central reservation, and people with modified bikes and hand carts sold booze on the move. This was not the place for sobriety. While our ruined clothes made us look a bit down at heel inside the hotel, we fitted right in on the street. Urine, drains and cigarette smoke competed with frying snack food and the ever present zing of lime wedges. Groups of friends sang and danced in and around the bars, dodging traffic as the crowds swelled into the road. The mystery festival turned out to be a Christian music weekender. One couldn't help but feel they were fighting a losing battle. We lined our stomachs and got into the spirit of things at a restaurant before going on to a bar. The early hours found us under the aqueduct arches, clutching mind-bendingly strong, half-litre, 90p caipirinhas, and swaying to Christian rock in the rain.

Saturday was a slow start, followed by a restorative breakfast and post-breakfast sleep. We eventually hauled ourselves back up to Santa Theresa for a longer look around and a nice walk in the sunshine. After my ordering error in Baños I finally got stroganoff for my tea, and hoped this wouldn't be an ill-advised choice ahead of another night on the beers. We'd noticed protesters gathering earlier in the day, and many of them were partying in Lapa. Clearly it was something to do with next week's general election. The reported front-runner, representing the hard right, is currently recovering from being stabbed. These cheerful revellers were altogether more peaceful in their opposition to him, choosing stickers, glitter and dancing in the street as their weapons of choice. We steered clear of the cocktails but still made a poor attempt at getting a slightly earlier night. We looked up the hashtag of the campaign stickers and chanting, and discovered that #elenão meant #nothim, a cry of protest against misogyny, homophobia and racism.

Sunday, appropriately enough, involved a visit to Giant Jesus, or Christ the Redeemer as the statue is known to all but me. The figure watches over the city from high above and, while prominent, had seemed smaller than expected from the vantage points we'd had up to then. A Swiss-style train took us from the base of the mountain, up the steep, forested slopes to the undeniably enormous statue. All around the main platform, people lay prostrate at the feet of Christ. They weren't praying, or indeed even looking at the statue, but rather were all busily taking photos of each other; lying on the ground to get the same crucial shot from below. Arms outstretched, their backs to the statue, superimposing themselves over one of the modern wonders of the world. While the sights on the viewing decks were plain annoying, the views from them were superb, taking in the bay, mountains, city and beaches in 360°. We could have happily stayed up there for hours, but we'd promised ourselves a second crack at Copacabana and daylight hours were running short. Arriving on the bus, it was immediately apparent that some huge party was in full swing. The dual carriageway next to the beach was closed to traffic and full of floats and thousands of people. It was a powerful cross between a Pride parade and political rally. The tide was up and the sea so rough that lifeguards were patrolling on jet-skis and preventing people from swimming. My swim kit stayed in my bag and rather than sit on the beach as planned, we grabbed a drink and joined in. While it might not have been our election, it was a great opportunity to show solidarity. We picked a sound system we liked and danced alongside the slow moving lorry down the full length of Copacabana. We arrived several hours later hammered, starving and covered in glitter. Ending as we began in Santiago, our final dinner in this continent involved meat on chips, a South American staple. Clearly we couldn't just leave it there, as Sunday night samba was in full swing back in Lapa. Street-stall caipirinhas in hand we stood on the pavement admiring other people's dance moves and looking back on our trip. Our livers are quietly glad we are not staying longer.

We believe we have slept in one hundred and nine beds over the past ten months. This includes a bamboo stretcher in the forests of Laos, a tent in Thailand, wild campsites in an Australian van, and a boat down the Amazon. It does not account for all the overnight planes, trains and buses that we have variously enjoyed and endured. Thinking of it like this it seems incredible, yet here we are; it's the first of October and we're about to go home. Many of my clothes are about to go in the bin, together with the owl-patterned bag that has been slung across my body almost every day and is a veteran of our Japan our India trips before that. It's like discarding faithful friends. I have no idea what's coming next and am merrily avoiding thinking about it until we're home and the dust settles. As I lie here in Rio thinking of what a wonder, challenge and privilege it has been to do this, our tiny, huge earth rotates beneath me. We will soon be racing back across the Atlantic to the lovely Peels who will await us at Heathrow. For those of you who have managed to read this far, you’ve got through eighteen of these missives and who knows how many tens of thousands of words. Thank you for your interest, it's been lovely to have someone else to talk to.