I was out in the kitchen drawing when my mom started putting groceries away. I, without really thinking, took an egg and thought, wouldn’t it be cool if I drew on these? A few moments later, I drew the one thing I love to see: ghosts. They’ve invaded our refrigerator.
My desk = my brain.
I’m busy as hell at work right now, but here’s a shot of a haiku I wrote for a coworker earlier today.
there, behind the wall,
a fortune teller of old
grows in great wisdom
Speaking of productivity, I just finished watching The Little Prince on Netflix.
The idea of “growing up” and what that all means has caught my attention today.
According to the film, us adults are “a bit odd” as many of us fixate on things that really aren’t “essential.”
Watching the film this time around, I identified with Mr. Prince, the grown up version of the Little Prince, who finds himself sweeping chimneys and disconnected from his younger self.
He’s forgotten his youthfulness and sense of wonder. His whimsy is no more and has been replaced with obedience and boundaryless work. All of his previous light has been dimmed in pursuit of pleasing Mr. Business.
But there is hope. He ends up finding his way back to himself and remembering all that was once his. I hope I do too.
It’s on days like these that I wish I knew how to sign. To not speak but to let gestures show. For my hands to become spokesperson. To confess myself in movement.