Yes, it's Three in the morning.
As I slept, a dream unfolded. I was in a quiet garden, reading a book.
It was a book that doesn't exist.
It was unlike any other book. It was a new book, and in my dream I turned each page, savored every picture.
They were photographs, of places and things I have seen. Not the big tourist objects, these were the tiny hidden and overlooked details that are scattered, like little blessings, all about the City.
Most people don't even notice these minutiae, but in my dream book there they were, photographed simply and unpretentiously, several to a page, and occasionally a full page, so that every miniscule detail could be appreciated.
They were grouped, not by location, nor by subject. They were grouped into ten chapters, each was about a different colour.
As I reached the end of the book and closed the cover, I woke, suddenly. And I knew that this Book did, in fact, exist. It is tucked away in my mind, long dormant but now beginning to rouse. It is My book, and I will commit the next couple of months to bring it into the world. I am gravid with the Idea of a Book.
Yes, it is Three in the morning. And this is, occasionally, the way inspiration comes to me.
Now, I will leave my studio daily and camera in hand, I will search for the contents of My Book.
I am an Artist, and this is how I make my Art.