For two years my life in London revolved around the ups and downs of the show. Now it's packed up and left for Toronto, like a circus packing up the big top and moving on to the next town.
I am so happy I'm heading to Paris to live with D until April, but it's weird going from moving a million miles an hour to a full-stop in a single day.
I'm a bit dazed and out of it. Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome?
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