"An artist cannot do anything slovenly. "
I sometimes wonder if I am a true artist; lazy and self-indulgent as I am. This new year has inspired me to spend many evenings drinking and talking, many morning sleeping late, and very little time beautifying my home and perfecting my craft. Christmas has poured itself into carnival and I celebrate while waiting for Lent to end my easy days and teach me again to suffer with Christ.
The air has turned bitter and icy, it bites into me and persuades me to stay away from my little cafe. I have fallen into the habit of reading my days away; with hot tea and good bread beside me I am working my way through a smattering of Polish Romanticism, Russian biographies, and Jane Austen. But always with the intention of reconnecting with friends "today...or tomorrow" but then the time disappears.