A Note From Your Mum

But once in a while, I get that same feeling I used to get before a gym class. That sinking-stomach nausea. That anticipation and dread. I just. Don’t. Wan’t. To. Do. It … And I don’t want to do whatever it is, really badly!
But once in a while, I get that same feeling I used to get before a gym class. That sinking-stomach nausea. That anticipation and dread. I just. Don’t. Wan’t. To. Do. It … And I don’t want to do whatever it is, really badly!
I’ve spent the last few days luxuriating in the possibilities of a name change. All the things it could mean to me.
A good friend of mine wrote to me last week about how he had finally reached a stage in his career where he feels accomplished. He has, to some extent at least, mastered his craft. Before I closed the email, I marveled for a moment at the awesomeness of being able to say that you’ve mastered your craft. As I returned to work on the images for this month’s column I thought, “yeah … same!”
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