i suspect i may have survived the first wave of critiques this week. ive got one more in painting monday, but the two i was most nervous about, sculpture and contextual studio, are over
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today was the first winter slurring of the weather to cross wellington sky's lips. it rained the only way this place knows how to rain: in a sputtering grey wet fog of damp bluster. i optimistically wore wool anyway in acceptance of a drop in temperature, but nothing else. denial is less functional in dealings with mother nature i find. ack. i
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