Day 0367

Hampshire to Paris this evening with the unerring directness of a man following a GPS beacon. All expectations precisely met, arrived exactly on time. No human interaction necessary; e-passport gates for the Eurostar, a code to the building and key to my apartment waiting under the mat. Extraordinary how at home I feel in these little rented studios. Familiar hum of the fridge, dreadful Ikea lights, mediocre towels. Set up my painting on a wine rack, listened to Dostoyefsky, had a bath. Could be anywhere, but crucially I am alone and independent again.

Breakfast date and portrait sitting tomorrow.