In my head, long curbed ideas started storming again. Quickly the new workshop was settled.

Not everybody followed. Some tools were better being redone. Some others could come only later and not always fully. I craved a clean space so I migrated them only when needed.

The new shop was allowing so much. No more time spend searching. No more, rolling long distances for nothing. And last but not least: less labor, the workshop could work too!

The road was steep but the goal has never looked this clear.

Time passed. Between this moment and the end of this story, not much is left. So I did more than ever before.

I was feeling it getting closer. After, I knew the storm would slowly go back to sleep.

So I had to pluck out as much as I could, franticaly, and throwed all of it wherever and however I could. Too bad for the tidying but time was counted.

I calmed down. There were more, which has not yet found a meaning, so it was okay.

Since my first I'm always anxious when the end get closer. Like a raging tempest, concepts and possibilities not even fully formed flash before me. Large chunk of this swamp of idees sprouts or dissapeared.

I tried to select the promising ones, quickly, and with care I anchor them as best i can. How many will be lost, I dont know.

Carefully, I tided up the workshop. I knew, the next time, I would only come back here to greet the memories.

I knew it was time to stop playing now. The next steps in front of me leaded me back to a place I had visited before. A place much more taxing. A place for the next dive.