On Saturday night after about an hour’s sleep we woke up with pulsing phrases in our head; the persistence of which was enough to make us get out of bed to write them down. They were: We go to elaborate lengths to conceal how plainly difficult life is. It seems we experience an important type of beauty only when this elaborate concealment is removed. But it is too painful to remove for any length of time. That night we had fallen asleep reading Maiden Voyage by Denton Welch. Welch was a rather vicious writer; at times narcissistically unfair but always voluptuously frank. He is something like a consistent solace to us. We can’t remember the dreamtime context of the phrases at all — but nevertheless find comfort, when the effect of art is a “wisdom” formulated wholly unconsciously. 📘😑