On a possibly not entirely unrelated note, the bit that came home most in Amadeus was when the dying Mozart says to the person he thinks is Death, 'I know I haven't written anything good yet.' Though I doubt the real Mozart ever thought any such thing, that line strikes to the heart of what being an artist is about- the gap between what you conceive and what you produce.
On a possibly not entirely unrelated note, the bit that came home most in Amadeus was when the dying Mozart says to the person he thinks is Death, 'I know I haven't written anything good yet.' Though I doubt the real Mozart ever thought any such thing, that line strikes to the heart of what being an artist is about- the gap between what you conceive and what you produce.
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Creaking joints
Another early shift, another trashed knee. Don't ask me why: I was careful to sit when I could and to stretch ligaments. But no- put on boots, walked…
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Turn of the year
The Dead Days this year are cold rather than warm- reasonable cold, not arctic vortex- so the grey is sharp and hard-edged and sprinkled with white…
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I has a sad
Grey dank December day, but streets empty enough to bicycle if one exercises care and doesn't mind pissing off motorists, who only put up with…
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