Suddenly this week has come to be (in small part) about Shakespeare: King Lear at the Globe last night; Richard III at a Cambridge college tonight. Our rush hour is less crazy-making than London's, that's for certain. I spent a Tube trip yesterday evening closer to five strangers than I've been to even my loved ones any time in years.
And this work of revision-construction? My ideas are crystallizing, and I am coming to believe once more that this project is going to be viable and exciting--even to me, who have to write it. Obviously the only way to celebrate is to spend a second night in a row watching a king gone wrong.