say goodbye

 All fit in the morning, things are better than they were. Things are not functioning as well as they could, but what matter.

Reading the news, note with horror that the American government is now supporting fascists in Europe. This does not seem a sensible idea, but perhaps they have not learnt their lessons properly. Those who are not well off in America will suffer in the end, those with money to burn will always find a safe place for it. Wherever they are.

Pay a visit to the shops, and return. The town is full up with Christmas shoppers and people visiting the entertainments in the streets. It is all very Christmassy, it is all most commercial, it is all frenetic. At least American Christmas melodies are not to be heard. 

Return home, pack the shopping away. There is a message from the gallery circle indicating that they will hold their regular meeting at one. Send them an excuse, the real reason is just a worry that their stupidity will lead to direct words.

The artist comes by, collect the photographs from the upstairs room and let him drive his car to the studio. There are sixty pictures to put on the table, it is all on account of Christmas. They are having some kind of Christmas sale, and they have been busy setting this up. There is no wish to be part of this,  apart from the artists tiny figures all of the others are visibly amateurs. There is no wish to display stuff alongside them, but in order to maintain the peace go along with the nonsense. The other people arrive at the studio and the atmosphere turns into that of a charity jumble sale.

Say goodbye and leave.

At home read the news, and wonder.