I’ve sifted through books and art supplies, sorted clothing and shoes, sold what I can, given away the rest. I have a new bank account and I’ve contacted the necessary institutions I need to unhook myself from Australia. I’ve booked a place in a language school and have made contact regarding accommodation. I have plans A, B and C, and each are flexible (read: contain the possibility to change).

There is still so much to do but this is limbo week; now is the waiting game and time does some strange elastic things while you’re waiting for it to go by.

It goes without saying that for someone who needs to be moving (impatient) waiting is not conducive to a great headspace. In theory, this would be the perfect time to write a story, because the tales in my head of what could be, what might be, what is (and isn’t) run wild with reality.

But I don’t feel like writing (although I’m behind on my weekly poem and really should be writing…), so instead I spent the afternoon in the studio, making the most of it for a few hours before I have to pack it all up and ship what I can to Italy. (Ssh…I’m making something for each of the women from the writing tour!)