so quiet it was last night. i think the night before was fear that the trauma from before had come back. now i think it was just workers perhaps finishing a job. but where is the small frizzle haired lady? never mind her, it's quiet down there.
i had a dream of bob burleigh. he gave me two pieces of paper art taped to a wall. i tore them taking off the tape, like i don't understand how materials work, and i feel shame and also off-put that he was so blase to use that tape which is clearly wrong. i woke feeling shame. it was not about bob, but back then art got tied up with shame. i never felt my art made care. it was too carefully made not to make care. still it was good to see bob in that parallel world that i sometimes miss but am glad is no longer real.