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I have to go for a walk after that. In a second she has gone from being someone I love, or think I could love, to someone who’s playing a role, and watching herself do it. I love Clémentine’s shimmer but it seems to me for the first time constructed, not natural; willed, not produced. She read the …

Towards the end of the day there is Clémentine at the door. Anna! she says, rummaging in her tote bag. Lamia gave me this book and it’s incredible and I wanted to tell you about it right away. It’s about this woman – fuck that’s not it – she’s in love with this guy and so much so – ah there it is, …

[...] all of these things at once, made me say, as she was putting her shoes on, all your radical politics and he’s the person you go home to?

She shrugs. The heart wants what it wants.

It does, sure, but it’s our responsibility to think about what we want and why we want it, we can’t just cl…

Clémentine comes over every day, and some days we sleep together, and some days we try not to but end up fucking anyway. It has happened; we need each other now. I need her, I am able to say, but I don’t understand this need, I have never been with a girl before, never knew I wanted a girl, until I…

On Clémentine’s last night we go to see a French band we both like play at a little venue near Old Street, dark with people smoking the occasional illicit cigarette, the kind of place where the owners don’t care, and everyone misses the days before the ban, when we couldn’t see each other clearly t…