I managed to secure ten minutes yesterday afternoon to go and sit in the sun. Are you going to draw? he asked. No, I’m just going to sit, I replied. I wanted to do nothing but sit and listen and close my eyes with the sun on my face. I did it. The bird song was wonderful, as were the smells of heat of wet on earth. Though it wasn’t really warm. I sat there on my deckchair muffled in a thick coat, gloves and hat. It wasn’t enough, that resting. It never is. And when I do stop all that tiredness that is yet unspent comes to the fore threatening to comatose me. It lifted me though. The sun does that. Always.
