Maybe if I fill my big red coffee cup with red wine ...

my red french mug, originally uploaded by - di.

The day before the exhibition opening and the stress is only growing. I didn't expect this.

I've tried jollying myself out of it.
I went back to bed this morning but that got weird very fast. I dreamed this old man was giving me a pedicure and kissed my foot before polishing my toenails to look natural and beautiful.

He wandered off for a smoke break and thinking the whole thing a little bit odd, I went inside, finding myself in an elevator that was taking me all over what was seemed like my first Istanbul apartment building. I was meeting and talking with everyone.

Then I was on a metro in the Brussels underground in bare feet ...

I was horrified, as I don't do my New Zealand life barefoot thing since arriving on this northern side of the hemisphere. I woke incredibly relieved not to be out there trying to get back through the city without shoes.

I just photographed my face, checking to see if it looked as concrete and puffy as it feels but it doesn't ... it just feels stiff and puffy.

I tried sleeping again this afternoon, ignoring all the photographs I promised myself I would work on but lay awake, staring at the ceiling. I couldn't even pick up my Cees Nooteboom book.

It seems that there could be a bit of stress involved in putting a selection of your work out there for viewing and judgement by the general public.

Who knew ...