It’s not good enough to say to myself
“I have soft stubble … No one cares … It’s my hair …”
I can do better.
Every time I excuse myself I nurture a self-fulfilling prophecy. Don’t I?
“It doesn’t matter” means it doesn’t matter to me what others see, what they suspect, or even what they imagine.
Whom do I remind you of?
Whom do I look like?
Whom do you take me for?
The trouble with being curious is that your curiosity is limited only by your imagination.
“What do I look like under stubble?”
If I asked an average abstract painter that question, what average abstract answer would I get?
How would it differ from the answer you’d have given if I’d asked you this morning over coffee on a Zoom Meeting?
If a balloon loses air in a toy room before the party starts, does it make much of a difference to the adults?
It’s not good enough to say to myself
“It doesn’t matter any more.”
From Bath to Cork with baby Grace 