I dreamt of disintegrating, of decomposing and melting into nothingness. I hardly slept at all, just two hours between 6 and 8am, after lying awake staring at the waning light of the moon. I've been possessed by hayfever all evening. A tarot reading answered, quite clearly, an entirely different question to the one I asked. Everything hung cold and plain before me, no emotional subtlety, no warmth in the inverted maternity it offered. All things must come to an end. All things must go on. Living in contemplation, in patient abeyance is not living. Life must go on. It must.