It's so late and I've been struggling with sleep so long that I wonder if I'm becoming nocturnal! Why do words flow into my head just at the time when I desperately crave sleep? I know my body clock is working against me when my inner furnace sparks up and all rest is devoured by the need for a cool breeze, a fan or my wrists plunged into cold water. As I grow older, I have more wisdom but less energy to share it, that's not really fair, is it?
I'm drifting to sleep when suddenly I'm wide awake, hot as an ember and suddenly full of thoughts. I throw the covers off to feel a tiny paw touch my foot. Cotton is beside me. She's sleeping on my bed after a run in with the new local Tom, nicknamed Spicy nuts by Moomin. She's ok, but needs to feel safe beside me. Bambam has had a big fight with him, her honour intact, she's curled in a blanket beside the bed. They need me, little souls who ask so little but give so much.
These words are honest and frank, the kind I save for the other blog. Tonight though is when I want to share them here.
We're moving to a place where I feel a sense of old magic and wonder. These simple wash houses are just so full of history that I know I'll have to somehow capture them in paint.
The closest I can come to is how I feel when I watch a Studio Ghibli film. There is an innocence and honesty about the place. Hayao Miyazaki often researched and sketched his film settings in Europe and I've no doubt at all that he must have found these wash-houses and used the inspiration here for his scenes in Princess Mononoke and maybe Totoro.