I think I’m probably overstimulated. After quite a long period of not venturing far from my bed, yesterday G drove me to see the Mary Lloyd Jones exhibition at the National Library. So many paintings, such beautiful colours — probably too much for one visit.

I met up with a couple of dear friends who I haven’t seen in a very long time, and we sat in the café chatting after looking at the exhibition. Seeing my rather diminished self through their eyes is something new and a little unsettling.

Tonight I’m grateful for Ounce’s company whilst I’m not sleeping, and for the familiarity of drawing my tea tray. I don’t feel able to cope with too much sharp focus just now, so I’ve taken my glasses off and am embracing the blurriness.