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Observed Holiday Moring

30/4/2007

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      Another sleepless night.
    I am sitting here looking out at the sunny observed Holiday morning, trying hard not to put together the manuscript due today. My doorbell rings. It is the postman I have been expecting: he is here to re-deliver my new credit card. But after I sign my name, he produces an A4-size parcel from nowhere, and says, 'And a parcel from overseas.'
    It is the Hamlyn Oils book! I have been looking forward to its arrival, and here it is in my hands, without a warning, without a fuss.
    I have fallen for art technique books the way others fall for vodka. Another dose of intoxication on this sunny, evasive, negligent morning. And like most drunkards, I do not know what to do about it.
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                   Marie O
    An earthling who has more or less come to terms with the multicultural landscapes inside her. Art lover. Trained in English literature.

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