The plane juddered upon hitting the runway at Stansted and I felt like I was entering my parallel life again. For the past few months I have been torn between London and Cork, conducting my research in one and my love life in the other.

She was wearing her cute nurse -like dress and we watched Faust into the night trying to discover some meaning in those puppet creatures. A bizarre mangling of wood and flesh. The Icarus sequence of Brazil, reminiscent of the Bladerunner unicorn scene, pulled our already teetering eyelids down.

The next morning we were subjected to a pummeling of dance music courtesy of the teenage girl who lives next door. Noodle bars and Indian restaurants sustained or famished bellies that weekend. We visited a designer store, expensively cool and had cake in an organic deli. Before we were ready to take leave of one another, I was on the train to Stansted reading a tale of broken love.

And back to Cork, my love far from me but calling me and letting me know that she is drawing puppets from Faust on pause.