After recovering from Covid, it was straight to work- a show, which was essentially the work of three and then a death and a funeral of someone I had known for years. And there was the drama of that - most of which was not visible on the surface- so there was also the effort of pretending that you didn’t know (nor care, which both look the same).

And then back to work again, a treadmill at full speed. And it’s June- half the year is gone and that familiar rising panic that time is too short.

I mean this is my life which compared to other lives, would probably be inconsequential, normal maybe for some or worse, fortunate.

But it’s mine.

And at the end of the day, we do the best we can.