I fear I’ve spent far too much time alone and have started talking to myself and giving inanimate objects names like Mr. Kettle when it whistles or Mr. Broom when I need to sweep. I’ve made friends with the widower down the hall Monsieur Murakami, who has loaned me his daughter Sophie’s upright piano insisting I use it as she only hated it. Monsieur Murakami was in love with my aunt, I found all of the letters he wrote to her and slipped under her door.

We will soon be leaving. I’m almost done doing what I have to do here and slowly a wall of boxes is rising along the far wall. My lovely Aunt and her things. There is only so much we can take, and only so much we are allowed to have. We will have to sell most things, but I want to take it all. I want to recreate this magical apartment somewhere and live within it. I know I must go back and press the play button again, but part of me, a huge part of me wants to just run like Alice, and start again, give myself a new name, a new identity, a clean slate. It would be such a romantic and fabulous mistake and it so appeals to me.

I drew this yesterday for Monsieur Murakami, me holding his dog Tiki with ookpik and monster. I send it to you with love.

- Sarah

Drawing © Sarah Pomegranate