It’s like being in the middle of a washing machine being in a yurt in the middle of a storm – rain lashing down and wind howling in from almost all points of the compass. When it’s dark and the candle-light only reaches so far even the interior can seem ethereal. Although I stay dry and warm, am I really inside or out? Could the storm be an external expression of our internal emotion? Is the storm a tangible representation of our combined emotional energy?
It is not really a space for ‘doing’ in here at the height of this mayhem. It is a space for ‘being’…
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