Yesterday after running around all week, I was feeling so tired that I could not extirpate my clumsy physical shell to transport it to the Italian party – to which I had bought a ticket and was quite looking forward to going. I sat for 1 second on my bed and I woke up 9 hours later in the same position.

We celebrated my birthday on Wednesday night – with some decent wine and cheese. My housemates had recommended that I bought some beer as he was not sure that we would have enough. I invited only a small committee, we ended up being some 15 people in total. So I did buy extra beer. I came home to find 10 bottles of wine, three cases of beer outside the fridge and at least 30 bottles or cans of beer inside the fridge, left over from the eXtreme party. I don’t know what my housemate is on, but it must be good for having so blatantly over-estimated the amount of alcohol one person, especially driving, could take in, in one evening.

On Friday, I was taken to a small and lovely restaurant in town for another celebratory event. I then realized that it took me one week to feel part of the community again, to re-integrate the Fontainebleau spirit, to latch onto the various conversations – to naturally laugh again, smile at everybody in earnest and completely be myself again. One week.