Today I took what people I used to know called a "mental health day". Just a bit of time off to slow down and breath a bit. When I was a wee Zed I hardly ever stopped until I was so drained I simply fell over. Age brings a certain wisdom if not endurance. It's the usual thing when I do this that I find myself towards the end of the day pacing about looking for a nameless something much as a bloodhound casts about for a scent that should be there but isn't.
This seems to be a part of the creative process for me, this restlessness. It's a spur to do something that I'll find if I only look hard enough.
I also know this defeats the purpose as art always comes unannounced and sudden. But search I do and most likely always will.
It's my nature.
Oh, but for an extended period of inner tranquility, what a blessing that would be.
Portrait of the artist as a somnambulist.