Conference evening, on Greenwich lawns.
How many speakers we've heard! How many ideas! Sometimes, we have to admit, we were bored. We fell to drawing monkey butlers in our notebooks. Sometimes, W. wrote an obscenity in big letters in my notebook, or I drew something obscene in his. But at other times, we were exhilarated, set on fire by thoughts. Sometimes, we felt caught in the updraft of someone else's ideas. We felt flown like kites by the thoughts of others.
But now we're tired, after our day. Our limbs feel heavy; our eyes are closing.
There's only one thing for it. – 'Take me to the postgraduates', W. says.
Lars Iyer's Blog 