starts with a single step, and all that. You can tell I was a bit grumpy and musing about privilege when I started this, but then I drew a thousand million dots in the background and felt better.
They’re remarkable, dots. Relaxing. Draw enough of them and you stop seeing an unhappy race between unequals. You stop noting the objective distance, stop comparing the little and the big creatures. It’s all a journey, after all. You breathe. The anxious expression of the small one turns determined. The complacency of the big turns supportive. Your brain turns into a motivational poster.
You spend five hours making dots.
So if you ask my dad if he can think of anything to colour in, he will respond with “Screws! And wrenches!”
My mother, on the other hand, knows what colouring in is AND has impressive stores of corks.
…And on that note, Happy First Advent! ^___^
This is more or less what my brain looks like on an average day.
I am thankful for Hildegard of Bingen and plesiosaurs; also for Sharon Mann, who reminded me that Thanksgiving is a thing, thereby making me think of Hildegard of Bingen and plesiosaurs.
What are you thankful for?
Apples I didn’t pick upon some bough. Possibly more like five or six. What do you expect? I don’t even have a one-pointed ladder and have you noticed the distinct lack of arms? Yah boo to you, Bobby Frost.