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Someone asked me awhile ago to post pictures of my studio. I ignored the request, politely, but it came back again in my in box. It's not that I'm ashamed of my studio, I love it. I just always feel a bit squeamish showing it to the public domain. It's my inner territory. Nothing fancy. Spiders make their homes in the upper echelons, and donkeys and goats have walked these cement floors. Martyn has learned that I have basically marked the entrance with my scent, and if you cross the threshold without my assistance, you might be guided out, without words. The same person [a dear friend from afar ] who wanted to see pictures of my inner sanctum, likes to see what artists have hanging on their walls. She wondered what image on my wall was the most important
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And the Neil Young song playing as I type. Blue, blue windows behind the stars, yellow moon on the rise, big birds flying across the sky, throwing shadows on our eyes, leave us helpless, helpless, helpless.