I had envisioned this time away from the family to be different — more depressive or more liberating or something — than it has been. I sleep well in the house alone: I had worried I would have trouble sleeping. I've been cooking simply, vegetables and meat: the sorts of things I want to eat. I wash my things and put them away. Turn lights on and off. Sleep and wake up. An empty Rothko room — colours on colours, a frame.
Nothing more to say for now.