Beaches

 That's the title of the piece in the header. I have to dig it up and take a closer look. Try to recapture a little of the ease, the relaxed-ness of it.  

This week had the potential stress level of burning me bald-headed, but I've managed to hold the line against imaginary bullshit and future projections. Deal with stuff moment to moment. 

After missing last week, yesterday's aqua therapy session left me jelly-legged and tomorrow promises more of the same. Focusing on the exercises -not just going through the motions- will be worth the work. It's all about the Core.

The last thing I stitched was so tight, so overwrought it makes my hands and head hurt just to look at it. There are flames in its future. A ritual cleansing. I can't start anything new until then.

There is a raft, a caravan, of vintage cloth in my future. The provenance connected to my history. A strange circle of time and ownership and a reminder of the futility of holding Things precious. More when I have something to hold.