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My dearest audience

I’ve been absent these past years owing to an assortment of reasons. Foremost among them was the reluctance to write at all. I felt my attempts at the beginning of 2013 to be pitifully pretentious things and I urgently wanted to distance myself from them. Added to that was a growing insecurity about anything I did at all, whether personal, academic or otherwise. Despite the most fervent administrations of my mini-Indian therapist, I was sinking fast. My joie de vivre was rapidly decreasing to the point where I no longer had enthusiasm for anything. This state of mind persisted through 2014 – a year especially marked by stress and ordeals thanks to a rigorous academic schedule. I don’t want to go into too much detail so let’s hint at bloody masochism and hospitalisation, and leave it at that…

And now there is a new year resplendent with new opportunities and new enthusiasm. I’ll admit to falling prey to New-Year fever, like some witless pleb, although I entertain no delusions as to how long this new lust for life will last. Instead, I’m content to ride the happy train till its final stop, wherever that may be. As a result I have a new hankering for some good ol’ writing. As before, it will feature the same eclectic mix of fiction and non-fiction that so characterises my relationship with the world and reality: half in and half out, but somehow out of touch with both. If you don’t mind, faithful readers, I’ll be writing as if none of you exist and these texts are perfectly private and subject to no one’s scrutiny but my own. That should make for an interestingly candid display, don’t you think?

Until next we meet.

La Labouche, signing off…