The benign, enigmatic little face tucked above the capital in the ruins gave me a giddy lurch, of something like covetousness. Or was it nostalgia, or the inkling of creativity? Whatever, I wanted it.
I remember wanting things this way when I was young. It was quite unimportant whether I bought a trinket, tried to make one out of something, or drew or painted it. Acquisition or making, the having of something in the hand was what mattered. Now that feeling, like so many others is questioned, doubted, compromised, held at a distance.
A lovely trip, stacks of photos, most of the duties and distractions, more and less pleasant, confronting me on my return hopefully ironed out, I need to shake off this mild reluctant paralysis. I'll try to put something here every day for a bit.