There is some joy, always, if you look for it. The discomfort of my arm, pain sometimes, has taught me much. Expect less, accept more, he says. I want to do what I could do before but I cannot, not totally, not yet, and if I can do some things it is slow. So I am learning patience, and to let some things go. Like the ironing, and perhaps the weekly mopping of all the floors. The joy. Yes, let’s get back to that. That came yesterday when I managed to put one of my text pieces in a small frame I’d bought ages ago for that purpose. It took a lot to do it, both the sewing and cutting, but it is done and I placed it next to the postcard of Gwen John’s Self Portrait. It’s all about juxtapositions. I like that. It is a light thing, a trial, I told him when he asked about it. It gave me joy. Something of mine, not driven by anything but a curiosity to see what works and what it sparks.
