I had an awful dream last night. Or maybe it was this morning.
It had something to do with bombs and deaths and just...I was the only survivor, because somehow I knew it was going to happen. I hate dreams.
I haven't had a good one in a while.
I've started drawing again...it's therapeutic. It's not anything fancy, just doodles. But doing that is more fulfilling than drawing portraits, because I don't have to try to be perfect. I just go with the flow. Mostly flowers...but I'm working on a space-themed piece now.
Maybe one day I'll make it multi-dimensional and start adding in those bits that twirl and click.
For now, it's a pretty good outlet.
That's what art is supposed to be, anyway, right?
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