As I write this Bonnie is lying across my arms and drooling on the keyboard which gives posting a surreal difficulty and should explain the typos. She just came in from the garden and has covered my pyjama lap with mud from her paws. We are both watching a fantail do aerobatics outside the window, each with our own kind of stimulation from this entrancing sight.
I realise that I haven't written anything for a while about my book/arts work. This morning I dreamed I was in a car mechanic's workshop and decided to make a book. I took a beautiful sheet of handmade white paper, thick and creamy and textured like a cloud, and started folding and tearing it to make small sections of pages for a simple codex book. Suddenly I realised that my teacher had given me this special sheet of paper to make a different kind of book with fancy folds. I stalled, filled with concern for how to fix up my mistake, but of course once paper is folded and torn there is no going back.
Lucky it was just a dream, eh!