friday
Morning.
Sorry I haven't been responding to comments as well as I usually do on my journal. I don't know. It seems hard enough to want to post something in the first place and then to think of a comment seems like too much. I feel myself withdrawing. End of January. Winter. I have felt like this in past years. Doubting myself. Wondering if I was losing my mind, my creativity, my zest for life. Will it ever be back? There is something under the surface. I feel it. But can it dig it's way up? The most I can do is take some walks, take pictures, cook food, do the minimum. I barely write or draw anything in my paper journal.
Anyway. Here's a picture of a field I took last night with the lake in the background and Rainy a little blob in the upper right:
I liked how the stubble popped up through the snow so evenly.
Sorry I haven't been responding to comments as well as I usually do on my journal. I don't know. It seems hard enough to want to post something in the first place and then to think of a comment seems like too much. I feel myself withdrawing. End of January. Winter. I have felt like this in past years. Doubting myself. Wondering if I was losing my mind, my creativity, my zest for life. Will it ever be back? There is something under the surface. I feel it. But can it dig it's way up? The most I can do is take some walks, take pictures, cook food, do the minimum. I barely write or draw anything in my paper journal.
Anyway. Here's a picture of a field I took last night with the lake in the background and Rainy a little blob in the upper right:
I liked how the stubble popped up through the snow so evenly.