It’s the strange mix of feelings that is hardest to describe. When you feel like sitting in the Heavenly Rose because without much words and explanations you are suddenly allowed to do, what is the essence of you. You want to go down on your knees and pray every minute, every second, if it wouldn’t keep you from doing what you love. And yet, your feet are firmly gripped by a hellish ice, because it’s yet not perfect enough for you. Guilt taints the vision, guilt for wanting just a bit more.
It’s nighttime. I worked all day to transfer another sketch on canvas. I built Chicago in a day and am now ready to color the threshold. It looks great. 180 x 115 cm of awesomeness waiting for another day. And yet, I felt a disappointment today that should really just make me shrug like a stab. Missing attention syndrome. And that though I hate attention.
Must be the threshold taking over my mind – should I come, should I go, should I stay, should I leave, or just dwell here a little longer in the liminal space?