It makes sense that the less conventional the method, the less likely it seems that mistakes were made.
Drawing, completely unlike knitting, usually seems to draw out a great amount of
How should I call it
Mania in me. Not quite joy, or excitement, or rage. Something that is all too thrilled to tear through a blank surface with graphite or ink, and
Feels unnerved by every crooked line, every structural accuracy. It makes me feel like a careless wanderer. I haven’t been careless since I was a toddler.
But back to my initial point: there are merits to being a wanderer. Wandering away from the conventional, well-worn path into the dirt roads with weeds interfering every other meter.
It’s a lot livelier where the trees give the most shade and the beasts of the forest may greet you. It’s just you and the rest of the world being as it always is.
And I guess, you’re less likely to be a wanderer when you’re on the road to Rome. It’s always the conventional, four-horse-driven chariot with unchipped wheels taking you wherever everyone else ought to be going. Your to do list will be full until you pass away.
Which is as it should be, but every once in a while it’s not a bad idea to put Today: nothing .