As I write this, I am listening to piano music by Chopin— if the composer were asked, where this exquisitely beautiful music came from— he could not have answered. He didn’t go anywhere — except inside his own perfectly pitched brain.
But life, when it hits a vacuum, bubbles full, spills over itself, teems. Me? That space fills propelling me to write and I draw.
My daydream imaginings and “thought-experiments” require a settling-in time before they are converted into words or prose painting. I pick up pastels, markers, drawing pencils and create visual stories.
Am I a tangled, mixed up knot of synapses firing in hopes of ignition? Aren’t you?
Yep. Acknowledging and accepting, I’m off on the longest tangent and I’m grabbing your hand to bring you along. Virtually, of course.
My only hope is that we don’t morph into virtual people before this is all done.
Jill Campbell-Mason lives in DeWitt, MI
