They come thick and fast. First the leaking boiler then the suspension going in the car, and he having to sit there waiting for the AA for hours and hours, bless him. My heart sinks with it and yet, it is nothing compared to the trials of so many peoples’ lives. I know this. And I try to remain buoyant. If only I wasn’t so tired. I would have more resilience then. I think. His comment on Instagram helped. It helped immeasurably. Though I struggle to ingest it. How could he see beauty in what I do when he is such huge figure in reportage illustration? My oeuvre is small-town, the scribblings of a tiny being. I was moved though and thankful. I want to own it, definitely I do. I will try. But thank you.
