I can smell the end.

I can, you know, smell it. A few more days of throwing together my third narrative chapter (5 months overdue now), and my narrative drafts will be at their penultimate stages. And then I can get on with the rest of the show.

I’ve started reading again, and I’m getting quite excited about some ideas I’ve been trying to articulate for the last three years. I think I have found a path through. My theoretical framework has some scaffolding at last. Something to do with the value of apprenticeship, perhaps?

But this last hurdle has been huge. Yesterday, when I couldn’t do ANY more of my narrative, I rewrote my autoethnography. I think I’d like to make it more poetic and sparse. But the ideas are now there. I just need to find a rhythmic voice for it and I’ll be fine.

I can smell the finish line, still a long way away, but OH so evocative. (Hang on, that’s the shit behind me and the shit still in front of me. Plus Attar of Roses. And sweat.)

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