The past week has been tough; I'm lost in the studio. What seemed clear isn't. I try this, then that. I rip things up, reassemble them and rip them up again. I back off and wait, and look, and wait. I get anxious and put more marks down, but that doesn't seem to work either as it feels like I can't hear or sense where I need to go. Then I go upstairs and read "Lila" by Marilyn Robinson, which I loved, followed by a rereading "Gilead", and tomorrow onto rereading "Homecoming". I hope that's a sign in that title.