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February 13, 2009
‘Have you finished that picture yet?’ He said, stringing a bow.

‘No, not yet. I can’t seem to get it done.’ He said, putting his head in his hands.

‘Shame,’ he said, fixing an arrow.

‘What time is she expecting us tonight?’ He said, standing.

‘About nine oclock I think,’ He said, shooting the arrow at a target on the wall.

And so began the improvisation exercise. ‘Don’t worry about getting it right,’ he said. ‘What is right anyway? You’re not here to please me… If you create a door, walk through it.’ I’ve got to walk through my door.