I somehow feel sad about losing motivation to "work"; to do something great... I don't know who I am working or, them or myself?
I take a deep breath, close my eyes and drag myself into the killing heat of the studio. Work drags and everything is in slow motion.
I am not even worried about not finishing my garments; just spend each day doing something to fill the entire day, adding on slowly; painfully gradually.
I wait for the day to get over, at the same time fearing that time is slipping.
I can't figure out if I have risen above all this and become stoical, or whether my state of mind is a dormant volcano. It is the latter I fear.
Somehow, in all the heat and fatigue, it is easier to push the thoughts far back. Being a zombie is quite comfortable.
A new song fallen in love with. Learnt it by heart. Crackling sounds from damaged earphones. Damaged from rolling over while half-asleep, from being crushed in denim pockets..
Music is what's keeping me alive... sane...