A question that I always ask myself is where do my intentions come from? Are they purely selfish, or am I overly emotional, unable to separate what I desire from what is right and true? Or am I the result of a society that demands everything and gives nothing, therefore I cannot be held responsible for my lack of empathy? Or am I a combination of all of these things, and so much more, that I haven't yet had the opportunity to consider? 

I tend to have my most existential questions late at night, when I'm on my own. It's not exactly late at the moment, but I have spent more and more time on my own. I have craved my own company and damned those who have got in my way. There are a select few that I allow to be in my presence, but the moment their demands become too expectant I tend to scurry back into my hermit-like ways. I'm not sure where this has come from, or if it has been a long time coming, or actually this is what I'm truly like, as I was hiding behind a sociable facade?

I have all of the questions and not a single one of the answers. 

Since I am now into the second week of June, with only a fortnight left in the Far East, life is going at a tumultuous speed, and I've needed to take myself off to collect my thoughts before the long journey back to the Shire. Of course, I have the delightful pleasure of my Irish Ladies of Corcagh who arrive imminently, to look forward to, and their presence is greatly anticipated. But before they arrive, I have chosen myself as my only companion. That is, until the dark-eyed musician finishes entertaining the masses and I can have him to myself. I need some sort of consistency in my life at the moment, and he has the voice the purrs my name, in a way that only he can. 

Does that make it fair on the other people I have in my life. No. But, since when is life fair? And I have made no promises to break. Rather I have kept myself to myself, allowing my thoughts to cloud my sensibilities, and gone with what I believe are my truest of emotions. I don't know any more. I have been shut down for so long after the Duke of Albany, that I don't know what it is to feel and truly give myself to someone, and I am not yet ready to do that - thought I am finally allowing the thought to enter my mind for the first time in a year.

Love. What fools it turns us into.

D. S. 

There was a part of me that thought my last post would be just that, my last. But then there comes a day or a night where the words flow, and I can't stop myself from pouring out all that I feel, despite being unable to say the words out loud. 

Countries have been travelled since I last wrote; love and joy and frustration have all been experienced, heightened almost, by all too close quarters, and yet, the tenderness and fondness that I feel has not dissipated. Rather, it turns out that I have all these emotions I've claimed to not feel, they were hidden inside me all along and I'm only just coming to terms with the fact that they exist. I have ignored them for so long, easily since the Duke of Albany and I parted ways, and even before then, I was always weary and wary of all that I could feel bubbling under the surface of my skin.

And then someone you care about touches you and all the doubts, the worries, the questions, fall by the wayside, and all that matters is that moment in time. A touch that makes your entire body burn with desire, love, lust, a craving that you didn't realise you had, and aren't entirely sure that you want to satisfy. Or sometimes, it isn't even a touch - a tender look that speaks volumes. It conveys all the emotions that you have yet to admit, and aren't brave enough to utter into the hair that caresses your lips as you silently beg for more. 


For all that I feel, tiredness is something that I cannot ignore. My eyelids flutter against my cheeks, a daily struggle as I try to survive on a few hours sleep a night. It turns out age doesn't agree with me, and I need at least my eight hours to stay both productive and kind. The kindness leaves first once I'm under my eight hours. The productivity wanes under five hours.

I'm so looking forward to going home. I'm looking forward to having to put this year to a close. There is so much to still look forward to here in the Far East, but at the moment, my heart isn't in it. And I don't think it's because I'm ignoring my feelings this time, I just think I'm looking for something a little different. A chaos that I recognise instead of a mess that I'm unintentionally a part of; being home would relieve some of the tension building up in my shoulders. I hope. Though, am I possibly looking forward with rosy-tinted-spectacles? Am I already bored with the Far East? 

How could I be bored when there is still so much to explore? And I will admit that the travelling is something I long for when I have duties that keep me grounded for weeks at a time. And of course, there are similar opportunities back in Europe's beautiful green and pleasant land, but I want to see the world and be at home. How can I have everything that I want? Or is that life's great joke? We shall always want it all, but it is literally, metaphorically and physically impossible. 

Well, I've always been one to say 'never say never'... Whatever will be, will be, and all that, so I shall enjoy the journey. 

D. S.

The time between written posts passes too quickly and there are days when I forget that I have a duty to myself to record what it is that I do, where I go and how I feel. I wonder how long it'll be before this hobby of mine dwindles to a halt and it too becomes a fleeting memory, for I have no greater commitment in my life than the few words I share on these pages and the colours that I allow to drip on to a blank canvas. 

Though life is not as bleak as I portray it to be. 

Actually I am ever so fortunate. Another year older if not wiser, and though the frivolities were many and the permanent marks almost as damming as in previous year, I do feel more content. There are moments of dissatisfaction, but in general, I cannot believe my good fortune and I hope I show my appreciation to the Goddess. 

I only have a few more weeks in the Far East before returning to the Shire for the summer. Again I shall be at the Convent, (I cannot remember a time where the summer and the Convent weren't intermingled), and I shall have my darling Irish Lady by my side. I cannot wait to cavort in my overly-familiar stomping ground with my blue-eyed darling. She is almost as adventurous as I am in some aspects, and far exceeds me in others!

It will be delightful to catch up with my wonderful Ladies of the Shire and I cannot wait to watch my darling Armiger walk down the aisle. There are so many people to see and so many people that I am looking forward to spending some time with, if only for a few long summer evenings.

Though it cannot be said that I am not enjoying my time here in the Orient. I am off on some more travels in a few days, accompanying a truly captivating creature who I daren't write any more about at present. The Scottish Earl is still sojourning in the Far East for a while longer, which makes for interesting dinner conversation. And the musician, with his deep, soul-searching eyes... He is more than a little difficult to comprehend. Indeed, there is all manner of confusion in my head and heart and I know that I am the one who is going to end up burned, but truly I don't know how to do anything other than what I'm doing... I shall just have to wait and see how I manage to cope with the path I have forced myself down.

D. S.

I ended my previous post with a thanks to the Lord, an unashamed, unabashed plea for the good times to stay, in exchange for my appreciation and gratitude. So far, I must say that my prayers have been answered. 

My Mother joined me here in the Far East a few days ago, and though her journey was tumultuous, she has taken to the Far East like a duck to water. I forget that she has travelled as much as I have in her younger days, and though this is her first time to my Eastern city, she is more interested in the people I know than the places I have been. So we have dallied with friends, wandered the mountainside, delighted at the spectacle of dancing water that has astonished so many visitors to my Easter home. I am glad that she is enjoying herself and I hope she gets just as much enjoyment out of her own travels to come. 

Before Mother arrived I did have one day worth writing home about. It was a Wednesday and due to a wonderful tradition, everyone was in fiesta mode as we were celebrating the King of Festivals. I spent the morning in a state of undress with an artist of note - nothing like the portrait of Venus the Duke of Albany had commissioned for me all those years ago - but rather something much deeper and darker, and I have to admit it took me a fair while to get comfortable with my body being scrutinised in such a way. 

That afternoon I jaunted over the waters to a larger city to spend time with the Scottish Earl who surprised me with a visit. I couldn't not see him while he was in town, and there are rumours that he may be here for a little longer than expected. But of course it should have been scandalous to jump from one situation to another, yet it looks like I am used to these various trysts. 

The final chapter of the day was a complete surprise, even for me. I had left my painting class after my delicious dinner with the Scottish Earl and was wandering the streets of this most glorious city, when I heard the ever-so-familiar notes of a ballad from a musician I hadn't thought of in months. I couldn't help but be drawn to the sound. 

I didn't expect to see the same deep, dark eyes staring back at me from an equally shocked face from my travels in Indochina many months before. The musician continued to play, ever the professional, but the second he had a moment to spare, there we were laughing and talking about our fond memories from before Christmas. He was never someone I wrote of as an individual, always too wrapped up in the man who made me see myself, but now, now that I know what I am... I still can say nothing more. Not until I see him again.

And of this beautiful Iberian princess that I have become acquainted with...? For now, I have no words.

D. S.

Another post and another country that I have fallen in love with. There is nothing I can say or do to stop myself from travelling, and honestly I can't think why I wouldn't spend the rest of my life discovering new cities, cultures and ways of life that I wouldn't be able to imagine had I stayed cocooned in the luxury of the Shire. 

I have continued to travel the Far East, not leaving the bustling shores of the Orient, but listening to the distant rumble of cultures un-yet discovered. Indochina called my name and I followed willingly, exploring tiny fishing villages that haven't yet experienced the furore of the future.

I went with my gorgeous Scottish Lady and we dined and danced and dallied with all that the country had to offer - and I cannot stress enough the beauty of a country so little effected by the trappings of the modern world. It was truly a glorious place to visit and if I had any disappointments, at all, it is that I didn’t get to spend more than a few days experiencing paradise.

This only means one thing, that I have to, at some point in the future, return to Indochina and give more of my time to a place that has opened my eyes to the truly important things in life.

This journey was not one of self-discovery. Siam taught me that I am running very low on patience and my tolerance for other people is not where it should be… Seemingly however, my creative ambitions are soaring, so I need to work on finding a balance before I become an artist and a hermit rolled into one unintentional situation.

I have a desire to see more of the world, and to paint. Nothing else seems to give me the same satisfaction, though there are individuals that I have become close to, and they in turn are demanding more of my attention and are only too willing to smother me with their affections. Please do not take the term ‘smother’ in my usual negative connotations, but rather imagine that someone is placing no more than a chaste kiss on my cheek, and I am overreacting. It is another of my flaws that I intend to work on, at some point.

Until then, I shall discover more about what the Far East has to offer. My Mother is going to join me at the end of this week and together we shall roam the streets of my home. I shall share my memories of this place that I have spent so little time, but have already created snippets of my life that I hope to never forget. It will be exciting to have someone from my past visit me in this new and exotic place. I remember how wide-eyed and in-awe I was when I arrived, but now I stroll past the palaces and gigantic buildings without a second thought. It will be wonderful to see my own town through the eyes of a visitor.

I feel ever so privileged to have all I do and see all I see. Please Lord, I am the happiest I can remember, let nothing take this feeling away. Help me always be grateful for what I have, because there is nothing else that I could ask for.

D. S.