It is early morning. A wretched few days & nights battling intense stomach pain; the 6th day chemo trial for me it seems. Beyond sleep I have dug into the bottom of the sewing basket and retrieved an old ceramic headed clown doll with a leg off and costume awry that has awaited mending for over 10 years. I am focusing on the task as if there is some kind of urgency; as if it has some importance in my transient existence. His ruffle is replaced, the leg secure, sleeves gathered once more on this miniature Grimaldi. The shattered head is long mended, if poorly, but cries out for tufts of orange crazy wool to cover the scars. An orange cummerbund would finish the costume and have him ready for a shelf performance. I will find them today.