More.

I want more. Simple, direct, to the point this is not enough. But, more of what? Shopping feels hollow, food disappoints, dreaming doesn’t stretch far enough. Through a constant daydream I pick up shoes, fondle bags, and twirl dresses before putting them down – feeling nothing and walking away. I scoff cakes, sandwiches, torts, pies, cocktails, teas and chocolate not tasting a single thing. Something is missing, but what? Disappointment taints everything. It is like burnt rice; you taste the acrid flavour through lashings of soya sauce. I think of travel, I think of high tea, I think of homes, country homes, town houses, apartments in high rise flats, I think of careers, publishing, editing, cooking, sales, marketing, I think of a more fulfilled life.