I'm exhausted. The Murray Street apartment is dark and still. Manon is sleeping. I just got back from the Château Laurier, where I met Véro and the girls for a glass of wine over some jazz piano. I had arrived late, in the middle of light-hearted conversations. I was felt distracted.

The jazz pianist came over and introduced herself with a great friendly smile. The other girls looked a bit bored, but I became alive again. We talked about her piano studies and I thanked her for the quiet music. The girls left soon after, and I sat alone in a plush armchair, listening to the tinkering of notes in the dim light. It made my heart feel again, all those things I've been numbing myself from - pain, loneliness, bitterness - and helped me to rediscover the things that I miss, like awareness, delight and peace.

I stayed for a while, and when I left I stole a flower from the centrepiece and left it on the piano keys during the intermission.

And back here now, exhausted. Sitting in front of the old computer, small wicker lamp turned on, the clickety-click of the typing. Nothing makes sense right now, but at least I see beauty. Often in the darkness, alone, without another soul to witness it with me - I see beauty.