A dance of steps

I have come to the end of any decent productivity, anything I recognize as the pace and product of quality residency time. Part of that comes from being so close to the end (in exactly a week I will be in the air, heading east). Part of that stems from the weirdness of this place (strangers come and go as if this is their home, or community center, computer lab, library, hang-out spot, workplace. Every day brings new commotion: shrieking children, kids in my face demanding attention as I cook in the kitchen, visiting artists, courting couples, a fire alarm that goes off every day at 3:30am, 6:30am, or 8:30am, and so on)--I've never been to a residency that has more distractions, and no dedicated private space for residents only. Partly, I am mourning. My foot is not really better, I have had crippling stomach pain for a month, and I am confounded by the changes in my body. And the last bit is, I hope, some kind of growing-up awareness: I never get much done at the end, so why kill myself to eke out another piece or two? Better to accept fully that I am leaving soon, which entails very real logistics that work best when done NOT at the last minute. I've been enjoying my time with Cobi and Dianne (she cooked us a wonderful dinner last night and got us away from the compound for a starry evening), and not hating myself for being in the studio so little. My little sister is in the air now, coming west, and once she touches down and finds her way here, we will be off on a weekend adventure!