Well, here we are again. I suppose it's probably just as much work for you to read this as it is for me to write it, so I think we are in this together. It is a grey sky badly concealing a blinding silvery white one today. That is all I can see from my window. I do not have a view, except of the giant sky, which glares and blinds but does not reveal any drama. I miss dramatic skies, dark skies, dark and dramatic, we do not have those in California. The weather here does not suggest mystery, very rarely does it suggest mystery, which is regrettable because there is nothing better than the suggestion of mystery. This is what I am painting now, the suggestion of mystery without its revelation. When I decide to learn how to append photos, perhaps I will show you, but in the meantime, it is nice to have the mystery concealed. It is best when the mystery is almost fully concealed because then all is promise. All is promise.