Sunday, December 14, 2003

I had a dream that I was standing in a hallway. In front of me was a huge sheet of white paper. I gazed down at the pure expanse, and I started to think of just what I wanted to do with it. Where I would put the first mark, what it would look like. What would I use, a pen, pencil, crayon, marker? But the wind was blowing, and I had to keep running around the paper, trying to keep it from blowing away, or folding over and rendering it imperfect. Despite all my hard work to keep it spotless until I was ready to start, someone came into the hallway. They grabbed an orange crayon and started drawing little pictures... like those of a small child. And other people came in, and everyone wanted to draw on my paper. After getting mad for awhile and joined in, drawing recklessly. In the end, the paper was crumpled and torn, a mish mash of colours and pictures, doodles... and it didn't mean a thing.

True story, that.

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