I’ve been sitting with this piece for a bit.
Time off over the holidays gave me space. Not clarity all at once, but enough distance to notice where my energy was going. The fog of war didn’t lift dramatically. It thinned. And that was enough.
This sketchbook is small.
The paper is oversaturated and warping.
By most practical standards, it would make sense to abandon it and start fresh.
I won’t.
Starting fresh is a habit of mine. An infinite loop of fresh starts that never quite finish.
Lately I think less about finishing and more about continuing. About whether something can still matter even if the conditions aren’t ideal. Even if the steps forward are almost microscopic.
That’s what this piece is about right now. A slow alignment. A return to motion through constraint.
Progress doesn’t arrive all at once for me. It never real
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