Last day
Today is the last day of Edward F. Albee’s residency. Ocean left two days ago, but Ella, Dante, and I are still staying.
Today, the studio, which has been quiet so far, was a little noisy. The fire alarm went off loud in the morning, but after failing to find the cause, she found that it leaked down from Ella's room in the afternoon, so she completed the repair. In addition, the door of the visual artists' studio had to be repaired, so Ella stopped working all day.
Right now, everything is still quiet and dark. Other artists are doing their best in the morning. They are all respectful artists who devote themselves to their work. I organized my luggage in advance, sat alone in my study, listening to Bill Evans' music, and took out a book I had not finished reading. During the day today, it was hard to read, as if I was dyslexic. At night, I regained some concentration. I drank a glass or two of wine almost every night here, and some days, I didn't sleep well, but I started to get something in my eyes. It was like a vacation day, but I did something with enough concentration to make my body go wrong.
Today's particularly memorable scene is the police officer who ran after hearing the fire alarm was so hot. She looked as if she had jumped out of a movie.
It was no longer cold from yesterday. I walked around and started to smell a different land than winter. I wanted to go into a quiet place during the cold winter, read to my heart's content, and focus on my research for my subsequent work, but this place gave me time and space perfectly. Will I miss this place again? Like this, a page in February 2025 passed.