Closing the studio for the Summer.
The harpsichord is tuned and wrapped in blankets.
The tea kettle is empty and clean.
Two months away from Amsterdam is usually more than enough for me to forget what I was doing with music (in spite of getting better at writing stuff down). Maybe the pieces I was working on will feel fresher on the fingers. Maybe I will be more sensitive to the compositional possibilities afforded by the segments of TBD#3.
On the other hand, I have now been away from the farm for slightly more than two months. I've come to realise that this is around the time where the rhythms of my life there start to become hazy and to seemingly turn to fiction. The mental image of the place starts to blur, as do my ideas for the space.
I know it goes on without me, it's merely the role I play that fades.
It's strange to live this divided life, yet nothing one can't get used to.
It just takes a few days.