The times are weird for sure. Despite managing this quarantine life style rather well on a personal level, it is disruptive none the less. In ways I cannot quite fathom.
Today I feel deeply sad, not just because of everything ‘out there’ but because of grief hitting us much closer to home.
Last evening I heard a family member died, one of my Danish cousins’ son passed away; he was roughly the same age as our boys. Not corona-related. Simply put: tragic, there are no other words, or if there are I cannot find them. I usually want to bring joy here, but there just isn't much left now. There is great comfort in being able to hug my men, walk with Django and hold onto cloth, truly this keeps me going. Creating tangible beauty, however superficial that may seem, offers consolation. The ability to touch - so sorely missed these days - is immensely reassuring, listening to Jude's voice soothing....it's raining softly today, tenderly nourishing our garden.
I had thought the patching was done, only by laying it on the table do I realise my mistake: more colour fields are needed
indigo dye? a friend gave me a blue powder from Marrakesh, claiming it's indigo; after a long dip, several forgotten weeks in fact, without any change of colour it seemed, I left the bits of cotton to dry in the sun
|lo and behold a flower or a broken heart|
one of my all time favourites Blackbird by Paul McCartney
may you stay safe and well xx