I had a wonderful time; I am happy to be home…I am happy for tomorrow, I want to pick up my canvas again, the still life with the pink glow; the glow I’d painted first, and it’d made the mood I’d wanted, and reminded me of “undertones” in art. It is without the main subject painted in yet, but with the room behind it forming with some sort of interesting armoire I don’t fully understand just yet, but will…
I read a few poems from Collected Poems from Yeats before bed, starting with his first section in 1889, a new book in my home library. He writes about restlessness…I notice how I’ve been drawn to express a kind of stillness. I sometimes think as if I could be wandering between my novel, and poetry, and paintings, and sketches, and drawings; and in my new journal I am sure I will write poetry, and two imaginings of recent real life moments gave me an idea for a magic realist short story, and there’s a lot of room for it all…including dreaming…with a faery, hand in hand.
Blush of Dawn 