The first snow arrived this morning. Large flakes slowly falling and melting quickly as they touched the ground. It’s not the season, the gradually vanishing daylight or the cold. It’s my own inability to face the task…

Overnight, the trees on the church yard across the street dropped their leaves. The spectacular yellow colour now on the ground and the trunks black and naked. It happened so quickly and I felt unprepared. Also, with daylight savings ended the world feels different and it is as if we are in a peculiar inbetween state. Taking a breath and waiting for the real cold. The editing notes have arrived and it’s time to face the process. Have started reading the Swedish audio book and keeping my fingers crossed that I can escape flus and colds until it’s done.

As interesting each time: here is the Italian edition of my novel. I wish I could read Italian, but the month I spent in Lugano last year didn’t give me enough grasp of the language to attempt even my own novel. It looks beautiful, and I look forward to hearing how it will be received.

Sometimes it’s good to dance. Here is some music to make you wish you had the right partner to take you through the steps. That, and the right place, and the right time. And if all that is not available, well, then just close your eyes and glide on the sound.

naïve V4978/ www.naiveclassique.com

Time passes and nothing much gets done. The weather has turned cold and I realize the clothes I brought in July are both worn and insuffient. There are lots of things that need doing here in the apartment - people ask where I am when I call because of the strange hollow sound. My steps echo so I am mostly barefoot. The floors are always warm here. Strange how warm the indoors are, and how cold the outdoors. In Auckland it’s often the other way around.

I reread ‘Talking to Mr. K.’, a story I wrote some time ago. Read the rest of this entry »

Stanislaw Wyspianski, Planty Park

‘The consequence of silence’ is now out of my hands. I am relieved, but also a little sad. I find myself filled with the usual feelings of guilt when I sit down to watch TV or take a walk. Then I remember that there is nothing pressing for me to do… All I can do now is wait. This book has been painful to write, but also, occasionally, exceedingly satisfying. Very different from the first.