To compensate, here are a couple of poems from the first course I ever led in France, perhaps back in the last century where, with a broken collarbone and ribs, pain kept me awake enough as to write a lot of poems in the middle of the night. I'm posting them because I'm already anticipating the next course I'm running in the south of France, in a month's time (actually, less than that), because I've just heard that the book in which they appear, my first collection, Looking For Icarus, will be reprinted next March, and because it reminds me that out of the wormhole I can sometimes write poetry.
PS: I'm OK. Having a little difficulty with my navigation skills and the small matter of getting some sleep. I;'m blaming Saturn, as I often do.
PPS: if I've got the Hertz wrong, please don't tell me. Or perhaps do.