In a London hospital after a car crash.
This morning I told someone I spent my weekend sorting through six years’ worth of negatives. “Negative thoughts?” he asked. And they couldâ€™ve been. Because itâ€™s hard not to lament, to mourn the past.
But what I had spread out in front of me for two days (and what is now filed chronologically in folders) was a visual record of faces that have come and gone, faces that have come and stayed, of a changing relationship with two cities. Six years of a good life lived thatâ€™s really visible when held up to the light.
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A wonderful serenity has taken possession of my entire soul, like these sweet mornings of spring which I enjoy with my whole heart. I am alone, and feel the charm of existence in this spot, which was created for the bliss of souls like mine. I am so happy, my dear friend, so absorbed in the exquisite sense of mere tranquil existence, that I neglect my talents. I should be incapable of drawing a single stroke at the present moment; and yet I feel that I never was a greater artist than now.
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