This summer has been a mix up. The clear thread that runs through is a space appearing in which to work instead of squashing ideas into the routine of everything else, with which they sit uncomfortably.
Starting to carry this space around all the time, even in the crash and chaos of employment. Seeping ideas in to eyes and skin and limbs and having space when it is there. Working with minds that see in straight lines much more clearly than my side ways moves, without flattening the edges. Listening to trains and walking with wonky hips. We sat in the garden in the dark and talked it over. "This can hold together".
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