It’s mainly as night falls that I’m most willing to turn to this kind of work. Sadly, my paintings don’t usually last long at all, and may actually vanish almost instantly. Looking at it via radioactivity, you’d find this : as a low point, Thorium A (fairly microscopic : just a blink) ; as a high point, Radium C (viz : a full round in a boxing-match). It all pops off as quickly as anything drawn by rain on a window : glorious works of art simply start to run, as if mimicking a soft and alluring product of a Norman dairy. Usually I turn away with waning spirits from such all-too-liquid triumphs, and my thoughts go straying. Occasionally, though, I stick at it, I strain to bring a work back, I marshal bits of a collapsing canvas, and hastily construct a daub which anyway won’t outlast its original.