A seahorse, a tomb, an antelope, and a four-eyed fish

Our children's voices travel like light and music through the cleanish flat. A bath is running - not a river, but like a river - and the children's voices travel above the additional sound of hot and gushing water. Then the artist wanders into the living room. She is nude, naked. She disappears into the bathroom again, shutting the door behind her. I hear the water being clawed and the hot or cold mixed with cold or hot as she paddles her way towards attempted bliss. She has worked very hard today. In fact I will check to see if she is having a bubble bath. She is. Rosemary. The flat is now scented. This small urban habitat is faking nature superbly. The children by the way called me as I checked on what I hoped was a bubble bath. They were sitting on the top bunk chatting away and drawing. Our daughter was with a friend today and with her friend's mother they all went to a museum. While there they did some art and I have our daughter's in front of me. The pièce de résistance is a pencil drawing of a snowy owl. The owl looks like it is concentrating, more alert than wise perhaps, and has a kind of awkward beauty which make the entire piece feel very sophisticated. She also drew a rabbit. This poor creature looks frozen by the young artist's glare: it is endearing and intimidating, though. (She also rendered, though smaller, a seahorse, a tomb, an antelope, and a four-eyed fish.) The artist is out of the bath by the time I finish this - I have just been checking the news and reading an irritating and gloating opinion piece on the war zone - and looks washed if not entirely refreshed. I hear laughter and feel bad about wanting to quell it but the children really should be getting ready for sleep now. As for the artist's new piece, for me it is more interesting by the day. Today I am especially impressed by the manner in which it explains all the other pieces rather like a tent-pole holding up a tent.