The plan evolves, as it does. I’ve spent most of the morning walking around the dealers den. I meet artists I’ve been following for 10 years, artists I haven’t heard of, crafters of all shapes and sizes. Mostly out of suit. I make one purchase entirely mute, just pointing to what I want. Other booths I Iinger at to read or ask questions.

After lunch, I have two new deadlines. I must get back before the hockey game ends, at 10:30. I am told I can decide if I want to stay late Sunday or come home Sunday morning. I have space, fuel, and time. I wear comfortable clothes, suit up, and have no expectations.

I flit about and have fun. I bounce from line to floor to room and just exist in my suit in a way that feels good. I embody my character, scurrying about and moving to whatever music happens to be in earshot. I dance through crowds and greet strangers and I feel a powerful thrill. My anxieties become my character’s anxieties, exaggerated and expressed and seen and laughed with and evaporated.

By the time 9:30 rolls around I’m done. I pack it in and pray and I am in the parking lot. I feel unbelievable. I start working on a text to say I want to stay late. At 9:45 I am asked to come home Sunday morning. I feel a lot of things.

At 9:50 I drive back, and lie, and sleep.