Two magpies this morning out my window.
A luckier day maybe. I received a batch of old postcards from one of the villagers too!
The biggest struggle might be to hold on to the ones I hold most dear. Picasso tried, but had to sell some of his greatest masterpieces. But when money beckons it's hard not to be corrupted. At least nowadays it's far easier to reproduce the things in highest digital quality.
When I look back at things I did a long time ago, they are almost like dream-notebooks for my analyst - I don't have one at the moment by the way. This might simply be the burning bush and the prophet looking away; but he sleeps and the tree is a metaphor for artistic inspiration and a raging heart, even unto its shape.
I would have liked my mother to have shared in any success I may now have, but I have dithered for so long, avoiding criticism and possible failure. here goes...