I dreamt of a swan, but I’m not sure of the context. Did I see one? I know that in the end it was a dream about problem-solving and I’d decided to make a flip book using a swan as the image. I was pleased with my resolution when I woke. My father was there too, somewhere, but again I don’t know what he was doing. A presence, that’s all and not particularly relevant.
The moon was shining strong into my studio when I woke. Just lovely. It gives me such a lift, that white silvery light. And then it was gone. The wind gusted as I walked. The harbour is strewn with seaweed, there must’ve been big tides last night.
Tracey Emin has cancer. He was reading an interview with her yesterday at breakfast. It sounds like she is riddled with it. Her bladder, parts of her bowel, lymph nodes and vagina have all be removed. Poor girl. Poor, poor girl. She cracked a joke. She must be scared. I wish her well. She has been an influence. A light.