Comforting myself.

Just to comfort myself i' m posting a fiew pictures i took some two weeks ago, it was staggeringly cold, almost -10 C - And i took Moa for a walk around Djurgården - to Stockholmers what Central park is to New Yorkers - and everything was so beautiful... I'm sure by now the ice on the canal is completely gone, and the ground all thawed and soaking wet. But at least it doesn't rain and i so hope that the cold will return...or maybe i should just move to Provence or something -now that the entire northern hemisphere of the world seems to be enjoying a proper winter -except for us...

What am i doing?

Oh hell! I'm sleeping my days away and i can't seem to get myself out of bed, haven't touched a pencil for months and i can't bring myself to do anything about that or anything else, it's like i'm in the cellar of a house with a fire in the attic rapidly eating its way down, and i'm doing nothing to get out even though i easily could...or could i? If only when lying in bed i looked like her, up there, then things might solve themselves. But an oaf like me must make it happen, damn it! Why wasn't i just born a cat?!

Detail of a painting by J-B. Greuze. the Frick collection, New York