The number 20 and me.

Date written 14.07.2013  Place:  Somewhere in Mongolia  Time: 14:50

The number twenty has always followed me throughout my life; not only am I born on the twentieth day of January, I have lived in numerous residences with twenty as their number (or within the number, for example: flat 205) or calculation in the post code.

I started going out with my first boyfriend on 20th May, which was the same date I handed in my notice this year to leave work and start traveling.


My Grandad died on 20th January this year, my birthday and now I find myself on the Trans-Mongolian express in a 4-berth cabin with bed number 20.  Although I was located bed number 19; after a few “baltika” beers and shots of vodka the other night I dreamt I had fallen asleep on bed 20.

I woke up believing I had fallen asleep here, feeling a strong line connecting its bed to mine, before the realisation elevated me back up to bed 19.

When I arrived in Beijing a few days later it was the number 20 bus I had to catch to get to my hostel.



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