nookncranny's Diaryland Diary

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tea and flattery

we're in the hall gazing at other peoples' art and i'm swooning over a brilliant girl's group of prints.

"i don't think i'll ever be quite that good" i tell him.

(i promise. i wasn't fishing. i was just so awed by her instincts.)

"i love your work" he tells me. "you could read from the phone book and i'd find it charming."

i try to drink this in like tea. concentrate on it's warmth trickling down, rather than the old aghast and deflect plan.

later, i will wonder if all the yummy perceptions about me i've become privy to, could also apply to my artwork. geeze, what will i do without all this undermining?

it's as if i've just noticed the ground has slipped away, and i'm floating softly above the earth.

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