Hang those photos

After morning session four classmates bought our lunch from the opulent Bon Marché and nibbled on sushi and salads in a secret garden under a rose-covered arbor.

My mission for the afternoon was more practical; to locate transparent bra straps. With the mission completed (at Darjeeling) I spent the afternoon sitting in Vicky's sun-filled apartment writing a new version of my Memoir from our time in Boston. I was astounded by the amount of detail that worked its way through my keyboard to sit on the screen in front of me. As if daring me to leave it out.

I underestimated exactly how long it would take to hang just 18 prints for my show. With only permission to hang from the balcony of the mezzanine I ran up and down stairs way more than the minimum 36 times getting the length of each piece of fishing line just right before curling circular paper clips over the prints and suspending them from the fishing wire. Do you think I have a photo of it? Of course not.

Lois (whose apartment I borrowed for the show) invited me to dine with her and a friend at 10pm. We sat at a circular table, candles flickering gently with the vast windows thrown open to welcome in the sun's warmth being emitted on slow release from the beige sandstone. 

In preparation for the big day I turned my light out before midnight, but only just.