Yesterday was a long day of reading and writing, my studio was my sanctuary, the world could roll on while I created my own sphere.
My mind wouldn't rest, but hurried around like busy crows. Then suddenly they found treetops where there were room enough for all. Some sat down for a sleep, some had time only to breath a little extra. But then life felt right again and I was ready to keep on flying.
Photos: through my studio window last night.
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What are you reading right now? I have a stack of books, and among them Karen Blixen and Umberto Eco