The while we keep a man waiting, he reflects on our shortcomings *

Last night's vegetables were burnt in the end and it has not been a good day today for the artist either. She has left several messages as requested with the gallerist but has to date received no reply. I suggested to the artist this may be because it is the woman's first day back, but the artist is now being hard on herself for not having checked her emails and picking up on the fact the gallerist before her holiday was trying hard to get in touch. This may be in part my fault. In my own frustration I may have laid it on a bit too thick that the instructions I had left before going to the war zone were not taken up and should have been. I am sorry for this. Now, to make it worse, the artist has lost track of whether it is a positive or negative that the gallerist wanted to get in touch in the first place. As a result, it was impossible for her to work today and she watched the brilliant and heartfelt German film 'Das Leben der Anderen' instead. ('The Lives of Others' in English.) It is not that the artist is frail. It is not that she cannot handle all this. Early success as an artist and a former successful career in TV prove this. It's just that she holds this woman in high esteem and is still - albeit painfully - clinging to the ideal of working together. At least she seems more relaxed now sitting on the bright red sofa with her sister, staying with us again, leafing through a catalogue of a favourite French clothes designer. Also, tomorrow is not a cliché, it really is another day, and we must remain positive. Just as I try to be today when I learn I am to return to the war zone on the artist's birthday.
* French proverb

What can I say?

Sturdy.

Meditatio

A white candle burns by the empty fireplace. A desert lamp leans like a cold ceramic tower to the right of the broken music box on the floor. The candlelight reflected on the white gloss paint next to the fireplace flickers like a burning lighthouse. I hear only silence within the hollow of the unplayed acoustic guitar that comes all the way from China. I sneeze, and the dust particles on the blinds stick their hands up and say it was them. A message flashes up. The so-called anti-spyware device on the computer says it has zapped 19 spyware items. Only because the items are peppered with words such as trade and click and ad and serving do I appreciate their demise. My calf muscles stiffen. The book from my dying sister is on the table. I have not written to her yet. A second lamp meanwhile looks up at me from the wooden floorboards to my left. My son's toy police badge sits on the shelf below the Eliot, Sassoon, Plath, Auden and Hughes books. I think briefly and warmly about the land across the ocean. I think about the month drawing to an end, and I think about money. I think about the art. I hear the artist's voice as she reads a story to the children in another room, and even the cars outside seem to be listening. I hear the dishwasher and smell what I find out are the phosphates, nonionic surfactants, polycarboxylates, enzymes, perfume, geraniol, hexyl cinnamal and oxygen-based bleaching agent of the dishwasher tablets. (I nearly place the box of tablets back in the fridge after checking the ingredients.) The TV is turned off. I am wondering why I am having trouble finding certain websites. As I await news on a possible job, travel, position, hope, in my mind I am tapping my fingers. At least I am not idle. At least I am looking, however independently, at the big picture with fresh eyes every day. At least if I am running in circles they are at the crack of dawn. I feel like some tea, a perfect cup of full luxurious tea. The candle by the fire meanwhile flickers like a ghost, and I think about my dead parents. Then I think about music. No, I don't think about music, I feel about music, I imagine music, I almost hear music. The artist has had a good day. She has met with the young woman with the gallery and the woman is coming to see the work in the flesh. The candlelight, if I am not mistaken, applauds.