“She did not want to move, or to speak. She wanted to rest, to lean, to dream. She felt very tired.”
— Virginia Woolf, from The Years
And that's how it is this morning. The need for re-grouping, dreaming. That quiet feeling gathering. Which is very good. I've begun thinking of what needs writing next. Which is always reassuring.
I've been writing all along, of course, but it's time to begin a longer piece, alongside the shorter ones.
Meanwhile, morning light. Kitchen window.
And one last look at the teacups, which have been put away in their boxes for now.