The Arts, Kurt Vonnegut

The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven's sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possible can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.

Kurt Vonnegut, A Man Without a Country.

This song, by Ingrid Michaelson, seemed the right kind of sound for the sunshiney, whimsical afternoon this day became ...

Blogging as a way to stay awake ...

I woke 36 hours ago, apparently, and went out with my camera exploring that misty Coromandel morning.  Then there was the big boat adventure out in Mercury Bay.  A short crash-into-bed afternoon nap, then 'assisting' the Belgian bloke in packing the big suitcases.

Later ...fish and chips some place fabulous where a Blues performance could be heard down at the seashore.

We continued on to Auckland city, the airport, and a 1am eleven-hour flight to Singapore. 

I didn't get an aisle seat.  Last night I learned that I need one.  My old motorbike accident body needs to walk every hour or so and my lovely seat companions slept.  I had a wee sleep but watched enough movies to know that it wasn't longer than 2 hours. 

We arrived in Singapore 6.30am local time and hunted for something to settle us down enough for me to write my blog post for Fans of Flanders.  Nothing worked so we found ourselves an airport hotel room for 6 hours.  But! there was too much in my mind and I never slept and voila, here we are some 14 hours later ... still awake and waiting for our flight back to Europe.

I do believe there might be a Russian parked directly in front of the big sports tv, making a Skype call that we're all getting to share... or perhaps I've become delusional.  The Aussie couple nearby seem irritated enough to suggest that it's really happening here in Singapore Airport.

Anyway, another photograph from my early misty morning walk on the day I was leaving ...