N. Journal
I don’t know yet what it is, so I have to keep my hand moving before it gets frightened and starts behaving. There is something inside that wants to be held and something else that hates being held, and they keep changing places. Maybe that is why the line gets thick here. It isn’t angry. It just has too much to carry and nowhere to put the extra. I’ll leave this gap because something might need to come through later. Not a person exactly. More like the part of a person that arrives before the rest and waits without knowing what it is waiting for. Sometimes I think colours remember things separately. Blue remembers being far away. Red remembers being touched. Green remembers that nobody owns the ground. They don’t agree, but they can stay on the same paper. That is already something. This shape keeps bending down. I thought it was tired, but perhaps it has found a smaller world and is listening to it. The upright ones always miss things. I don’t want to finish the face because then it would start pretending to know. Better to let it remain busy becoming. There are too many little movements now, but I like when they stop belonging to me. They can make their own weather in there. I’m only making enough room for it. Perhaps the whole drawing is trying to get out of the container without breaking it, which is impossible, but impossible things sometimes become animals because animals don’t have to explain how they arrived. This one can sit. This one can turn away. This one can be almost nothing and still be alive. I think that is the part I was looking for, although I didn’t know I was looking. Don’t ask me what it means yet. It is still deciding whether it wants to be seen.