Welcome to this strange new world—where nations are treated like commodities, and young people stay silent whenever they don’t feel concerned.

I’m not talking about the clusterfuck that is Trump’s lingering shadow over Venezuela, or the absurd spectacle of U.S. leaders eyeing Greenland like real estate. Nor am I pointing fingers at the eerie quiet from European students and campuses while protests rage in Iran.

Maybe I’m not saying the world is going to hell.

But let’s call a spade a spade: something vital has gone missing.

Any sense of decency—gone.

And what a good job I’m not depressed.

Oh wait.

Shit.

I think back to a year ago—to the China tour—and how I still smell it on my skin. Not literally, maybe. But in the way my pantry fills with new ingredients, in the way I stir-fry now without measuring, just feeling. And the sauces I make…

Google Photos keeps nudging me: “1 year ago today.”

And just like that—I’m back there.

A before and after.

Definitely.

I see the same friends at rehearsals and revel in the memories we made.

I also look to the future. This sick leave has given me space to rest—and I feel the energy slowly returning to this body of mine.

On New Year’s Eve, my son did some “daddy-sitting” for me. I shared the evening with his friends—and for once, I didn’t feel like the spare tire, or a discarded condom in a student halls of a residence.

I felt… present.

The beard is gone, and of course my daughter hates it. At least she didn’t cry this time, like when she was two.

I’ve actually gone out and shot some film: a roll I started during summer holidays and finished in Montaigu, and another I exposed in the cathedral in Nantes over Christmas.

The first photos I’ve taken indoors since the fire.

I’m getting there.

Trying to be present in this new crazy world—where our leaders are anything but leaders, and older ways of doing things seem to be shifting beneath our feet.

I don’t know where we’re going.

But we certainly seem to be on our way…

Come along if you like.
I’ll keep the window cracked — just enough to let the light in.