Sometimes you feel that making a single stroke with the brush would expend the same energy as lifting a mountain. I’ve been waiting for the power to flow back into my body, effortlessly coursing through my veins, enegizing me with the simplicity of the hidden universe. Instead, I find myself enervated by the merest thought of making a colour choice.
So, instead, I update the blog, I consider the best way to tackle the neglected paperwork and putter around, smoking a chewed up cigar and watch the sun set without feeling compelled to take a photo.
These dog days…I sense they’re over. Something wants to come out now, ready to be born. Maybe in the morning, maybe tonight, but one thing’s for sure: the vacation is over and not a day too soon.