Outside the morning birds are singing:
Doo ree doo, doo ree doo, ree doo, ree doo, doo, doo, ree, ree, ree.
Not trailing off in a doppler way, but in a song of their own. I should not be up this late. Should be asleep. Faced too much art market, divorce market, break-up market, make-up market. Too old to spend this time in bars. In bars, as most of us, looking for connection, love, acceptance, novelty.
I start with birds. I end with me. Women can do anything that the boys can do. Insulate me from this world. Show me your paintings. Let’s love one another in a melting igloo, or at least, let’s love each other.
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