Sometimes I get so blurred in the super-blur, that the shape is lost. There is so much I can do with it, but the vastness and the pace chills me out. However, I found an old passion reignited. I am going to develop it further. There was a time when so much thought was distilled into a few petit words. Now, I regurgitate a big fat book a day, but where is the sense? I cannot decipher it myself, let alone them. Missing my books, my diaries, my sketcher,my pastels...every bloody thing. Missing time for myself...Stability is a long way away. Not giving up hope anyway. :)
