The radio is playing memories, not music. But in the end, I suppose they’re the same thing.

Sarah’s fragile, melodic voice settled low into the valley of the natural amphitheatre like the evening fog that was rolling in with the crowd.

“I don’t want another lover
So don’t keep holding out your hands
There’s no room beside me
I’m not looking for romance
Say I’ll be here, I’ll be here
But there’s no way you’d understand

All I want
All I want
All I want
When I don’t even know myself”

Her voice lilted and broke as we tried to escape the drizzle and found warmth in the skin of strangers. A lump in my throat began to grow as she sang.

“I don’t want another partner
So don’t try and break the spell
I can’t even understand me
So don’t think that you can help
When I say things and see things
That’s no way on earth to tell

What I want
What I want
What I want
‘Cos I don’t even know myself”

Summer had ensured the surrounding vineyards were lush and the vines were heavy with grapes ready for harvest. I had a glass of rosé in one hand and my lover’s in the other. I leaned against him as she continued, the tears I was holding back becoming insistent, and so I let them free fall.

It’s just over six years since I separated from my ex-husband and back then, I lost everything, including my mind. By the time I moved out, everything I’d believed in had been destroyed. Things I believed about myself, about life, about people — all gone. It was visible on my body, the vanishing of identity, safety and security. My shrinking frame was the tangible representation of the evaporation of everything I knew to be true.

“No-one wants to be lonely
But what am I to do?
I’m just trying to be honest
I don’t want to hurt you too
When I’ll be there, I’ll be there
I know I sound confused”

After I left, I listened to this song on repeat as a reminder of the long road ahead to find love. Not true love, although I hoped I might eventually find that, too – but rather a deep truth, a self-love — the acceptance of who I was, what I believed in, what I stood for and the life I wanted to live — and I didn’t know what any of those things were.

“But all I want
All I want
All I want
All I want
All I want
See, all I want
All I want
Is to one day come to know myself”

As Sarah’s raw, vulnerable voice trailed off the last line, I squeezed G’s hand and smiled, because I knew I’d found all that, and more.