Today I get a message from Josef asking me if I could remember to pack up some things he forgot to bring
That is more than just one message; there are several in just that humble seemingly innocent request.
I see it come up but I walk across the room. I think again of Manhattan —how long has it been ….
The penthouse renovations would have been completed six months ago. Ilya has her hands full with three kids now. But all the carpentry and some interior details took the longest to complete. Historians had to be consulted to match colors and fixtures with the era
So…. with the shadow Interpol director pretending to retire and wasn’t it Jörn who claimed he was his cover? Which poker face is not bluffing? They play off each other don’t they ….the sun on the longhouse from the dream ….i remember now. The Folkmoot ….
It is usually only the boat and the hut from those dreams but ….there was the voyage and the stop at the ….island
Everything though feels different now in such a way that lifts me and bathes everything in a brighter light…. I’ve been sketching again, and painted twelve hours straight on the mural …. I am me again or is it that I feel accepted fully for me? What peace this allows. Such flow of inspiration is renewed
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