Belle

I don't read Belle de Jour anymore, but I used to back in 2003, when I was a few months into blogging myself. She struck a cord with me. I was living my own secret double existance and it was to do with sex. I was also blogging about it in graphic detail in a place long dormant. Ofcourse, I wasn't a high-class prostitute, but let's just say, coming from my ethnic and religious back ground, I may as well have been.

So today Belle revealed her true identity, and bloody hell more parallels, not only was she doing her PhD same time as me, she's a bleeding scientist too. And that's where it ends. Apparently at time of interview, she was still to tell her mother. She made it sound like she was going to mention it over a sunday roast, inbetween pass me the gravy and do you want an extra yorkshire pud. Jesus, she obviously doesn't have my mother. My mother would literally drop dead. She actually would. I know, because lesser things have been revealed to her and she's collapsed and had to be rushed to hospital with stroke-like symptoms.

2003, sits in my soul, bittersweet, sad, joyous, painful, innocent, innocence lost, guilty, paranoid, clandestine, cloaked, hidden, bright, dark, awakening, discovery, poignant.