I wasn’t myself in the last days. For reasons not experienced, for a loss that hasn’t happened.
Most of the time it is quiet, calm and the water across the channel doesn’t move much. There is though a change taking place.
I have only very little interest in talking to people. I do if I must, I avoid it when I can. The rest is silence, a narrow contemplating mind, or yesterday I walked home from the station barefoot in the rain.
My ideas grow, like my art matures.
I sense somewhere that I am lonely, however the subtleties of such emotion could not stop me from anything right now.