There have been some nights now that I've slept on the soft, carpetted floor of my apartment in my sleeping bag. In its own way, the weather's been merciful for sleeping camping-style. With 40 degree days, the nights are even more sultry than those in Singas, so no complaints there. But for the days? I have never experienced any hotter - even the wind was hot - and it made me think of walking inside a city-sized furnace where services ran as usual but every breath its inhabitants took were of dense wool.

13 hours before my flight. Despite a severe lack of sleep, I am feeling surprisingly wakeful at 3.24am. May not have trouble with jet-lag when I return after all!

I sit here in my studio, just as I have countless times in the years before. The yesterdays before this were filled with many last meals with friends I made both recently, and from a long time back. There was yumcha and a pub dinner with D and E, a dinner of noodles served by Caucasians with S, two good cafe meals with N, exotica fusion food with M, and too much java and alcohol. I don't know how, but I feel as if I know I'll be seeing them again soon.

To some extent, knowing I can return anytime takes the sadness and wistfulness out of leaving. It's just about knowing what you want from life sometimes, ain't it?