And the burn-out has continued here in my world but I'm running up the stairs again, finally. I'm not taking that forgranted ever again. Now to commit to taking the vitamin D I guess. Apparently 80% of Belgians end up deficient in vitamin D ... this New Zealander too.
As for the burn-out, I'm not sure that it's still that. Now it seems more like I'm looking around and thinking 'what next?' But instead of attempting to follow multiple paths, I'm thinking of just one or two. We'll see how that plays out. I have remained slow ... very very. And I'm letting it be like that. I have had a few times of intensity, quickly followed by that descent back into slow.
I know it's a luxury. More time without income but still, the Belgian bloke seems happy enough with the housewife who has stepped up as me.
Lucy, Ruth and Fiona, lovely friends from near-by, birthday-gifted me 50euro in book vouchers for my favourite secondhand bookshop here in the city. I stretched it out over 3 visits and I'm rapt with my books. I finished it on Tuesday, with two books about artist and wise woman - Georgia O'Keeffe, with a third by New Zealand writer, Barbara Anderson. Oddly enough, I didn't see the similarities in the titles until later but Anderson's book was a slice of home that I couldn't resist.
I had my hair cut too. 'Cut' might be too big a description. I have finally found a hairdresser who listens to me ... a hairdresser that doesn't immediately start cutting while attempting to make me stylish. She also found a way of unifying the damage I had done with my boxes of hair colour bought at the supermarket. I can only adore her for this.
The Belgian boke's frozen shoulders are almost completely recovered. His flu is gone, and the relapse he had seems to have left the building too ... as of last night. Fingers crossed.
We're slowly making our way towards Christmas. We have a tree, some presents, and plans are being made with regard to the food. Since returning from that Christmas we spent at home, back in 2012, I have flashbacks to how good it was there ... in summer. And the food. And the way that my sister made sure I was spoiled. It was like a journey back to my childhood ... almost.
The haircut and colour ... it's below. I think I take the worst photographs of myself. I'd like to claim that the light in the bathroom is bad, that I use a telefoto lens and end up jammed against the wall but really, there are no excuses. It's more about the fact I quite like the difficult light and employ a little ineptitude when it comes to self-portraits. I like the blur and shake of it all, the strange lighting and I remain defiant in my use of the tele-foto. Not something I would teach but I might say, know the rules and then break them. Don't be afraid to play a little.