A gathering of old people gathered for a Saturday talk in the space before the gallery. They are shouting at each other, talking loudly. It is impossible. The head is singing, the tinnitus hissing. Give condolonces to the man who lost his mother this week, and talk about the funeral. Work as a funeral photographer, is that the future? Who knows the future, it has not happened yet.
Leave the illustrious gathering as soon as is politely possible, there is now a constant his in the right half of the head. It is a beautiful day, and they all shout this obvious news at each other. What is going on, this is no joy at all.
Serious thoughts, and then a walk through the town to try to reduce the concentration on that aural phenomenon on the right side of the head. Return home, recut a matte for a photo and pack the whole stack of stupid images. Not much of this is going to work well. Then the knife, blunt with all the practice, refuses to cut properly. This is all sad, it is all too bad.
This evening there will be another discussion. Hopefully it will not be so loud, hopefully there will be no sensation of deafness when there is more than one person speaking at a time. Let us hope.
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