At first, there was a woman.
All alone.
Left hand holding the whole world up
Right hand carrying large bags of
Trinkets, troubles, tragedies, terrors and traumas.
But then I wanted to draw the child
And we know that little kids wander off
So someone had to hold her hand.
I made the woman drop her bags
And hold on to the kid.
At first I couldn't figure out
How many fingers interlaced in that square inch
So I drew no hands.
The arm of the parent flowed seamlessly
Into the body of the child.
As it usually is.
And then, the ball at the top of page suddenly
doubled in size!
So I stopped looking at it.
I focused on the flowery dress
And the red hair.
Then I painted the polka dots on the dress of the little girl
and then
since I was already holding a white pen
I scribbled white waves in the mother's hair
And reverberations in the mother's dress
And I knew that dress was alive and
moving
flowing with energy
she could not control
She started shaking and suddenly
I drew a crack in the stone of the arm
which was holding the world.
Then I made the child's hair bright yellow
and since I already had the pen in my hand
I painted the burden at the top of the page
bright yellow too.
And I knew
At that moment, it had changed its face.
It wasn't a boulder of worry to keep away
but a source of light.
And it flew through the crack, and slowly spread around the mother's body and into the child, who already - who still had the light in herself
And then the logical thing to do
was do draw the vibrations
all around
ripples of light
wrapping them up in warmth and protection.
But still, if the mother were to see up ahead
The brightness is starting to fade
Into cooler colours
and straighter lines
And there is another drawing to make
to figure that out.
