It's a rainy day here and I've been sorting out our spare room recently. Coming across my pile of journals languishing in a drawer I pull one out and start reading. It's an entry from early on, a few weeks before changing our life and setting off on our journey. It's interesting to read my emotions laid out on the page. I remember them but they've become a stylised narrative, a chapter of the story of my life. It's interesting for me to read it in a more raw, unprocessed form