Each day seems to go very slowly and I don’t get much done, but the months seem to go quite quickly and I am gradually, slowly, with great effort, getting things done. It’s okay. The only deadline I have is my personal real one—aka the end—not set by me or a human employer.

I’ll take my time and be grateful for it.

So today is very busy with daily things.

Why is life so daily?

A character in a play of mine said that. Actually, it was my mother who said it first and I gave it to the character (a mother), in my play.

I am actually going OUT ( ! ) this afternoon, being picked up and driven by car to a gallery showing by artist friends of mine. I may be too tired when I get home but I will report sooner or later.

Anon, anon.

Now I have to do some homework and thinking about what I saw and heard.

The installation is titled “This Tree is a Rabbit”. More tomorrow…