May 7th, 2015 - Thursday
I spent an hour and a half on this pattern. And it is just no good. I'm not so torn up over it, but I certainly spilt the milk. I try not to spend more than half an hour on these hand drawings as, after that time, the pattern sprawls over my hand, and becomes indistinguishable from the skin itself. (Let me explain.) There is a reason I draw these patterns on my hand: the lines find their feet on this space that is not uniform. I do not want to absent-mindedly cover the whole of my skin - approaching it as if it is paper, and I have forgotten the reason I chose my flesh over a notebook.
And it is less than that, too, of course, and I am writing small instincts as weighty decisions. Mostly, it is that I am unhappy with this. But the black spaces: this is something I hope to return to.
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An hour and a half of listening to these songs on a loop, too.