The drawers

Spring is coming, the air is soft, the light more generous. I dreamed of witches, dangers, complicated situations like only dreams can invent. This morning, I comforted a friend on the Internet who told me he was anxious: difficult family situation, abroad, upcoming exams, etc. I understood his anguish, generously wrote reassuring words to him, that he should not worry, that life always goes on beyond our worst fears. He thanked me.

Our drawers are full of these problems that we often create ourselves. I, the artist, am probably the first to shovel from the front and then, one day, I pull myself together and militarize my thoughts, regiment courage. That same friend asked me if I was happy. I told him yes: I am loved, I love what I do; I don’t need so much courage to do things because I don’t feel compelled to do them.

My only secret apprehension remains Les Mailles sanguines. I am now in the first third of the revision. My editor has gone on vacation, and I won’t have any new pages to correct for another month, I think. But until then, do I have something to announce to the world?

Let’s put it in a drawer. I’ll clean up a little later. I must, first of all, put my finances in order, eternal starting over.