Dont remember such a fallow time in my entire life except perhaps my 27th year.(Remember in my 28th being shocked and getting back to work.) It isn't just physical, that I'm physically not working - its mental. I'm not thinking about art, painting, installation, drawing, meaning - nothing. I'm fluttering about going oh look thats nice.
Its very pleasent. I sleep well, I waft happily about. Like something nasty has been cut out of me.
On the other hand it feels like my life has been wasted and nothing means anything - and that doesn't matter either.
---just fallow, I guess, like an over-ploughed field. Put it to clover until the spring.
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