yesterday i painted. i opened the little wooden box i bought in paris 19 years ago. the little box where i'd glued down the watercolor godets i'd been buying from the sennelier store across the river from the louvre. the little box i carried with me everywhere for a decade or more. but i haven't painted in years. it was once almost all i did. a day didn't pass without painting. but my dream shifted, i grew older and my need to paint began to fade. the oils dried up. the brushes sat ruined in thick congealed mud-colored turp. but it was never too far from my thoughts and now the itch is beginning to return. yesterday the watercolors from my paris days, opened on the porch swing, and paper and books and brushes. i painted.